


Book Two: The Sword and the Fist

by ReverendKilljoy



Series: Buffy: Post-Chosen [2]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Action, Drama, F/M, Gen, Romance, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-13
Updated: 2017-08-15
Packaged: 2018-11-13 20:00:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 20
Words: 22,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11192385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ReverendKilljoy/pseuds/ReverendKilljoy
Summary: Faith and Robin deal with life post-Chosen, in an AU continuation of "Book One: The Key and the Carpenter."Disclaimers:Based wholly or partly on characters and situations created by Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, 20th Century Fox Television and who knows what others. Rated T for Teen: An unauthorized work of speculative fiction with some adult situations and sexual content, graphic language, brief nudity and mature themes. Parental discretion is advised. Do not distribute for profit or without notification please. Not to be taken internally. No user serviceable parts inside. Made in the USA. Any resemblance to actual people, living, dead, or Canadian, is purely intentional because I thought it would be funny. They can’t take the sky from me. Strongest fan fiction available without a prescription. May cause dizziness, dry mouth or nausea. Do not read my fanfics while driving, drinking or operating heavy machinery.





	1. Prologue and Part I

_**Prologue:** _

_**From the Diary of Rupert Giles, Watcher:** _

 

_Much has been written in our diaries and journals of Faith, the Vampire Slayer. My own experiences with her are chronicled here, both of her descent into evil, and of her brave and invaluable service in the war against the First and the army of the Turok-han._

_Wesley Windham-Pryce once confided to me that he was glad Faith had not had the careful and nurturing environment for which we as Watchers had always been told to strive. “Buffy is a diamond, Rupert, and you will spend your life polishing her. Faith is forged Wootz steel, and it’s the fire that will make her what she is destined to be.”_

_This was somewhat before she tortured him near to death._

_Much less is known about her companion, Robin Wood, to whom she was recently wed. My experiences and those of Buffy Summers revealed him to be both complex and resourceful. We know that he recently traveled with Faith to Chicago, and returned shortly thereafter to California with Xander Harris, Dawn Summers, and Faith. Our sources indicate that there was some considerable violence done to some men of poor character and long rap sheets there, but whether by Faith or by Robin, we do not know._

_Wood’s motives, much of his history, the full the extent of his ability, and even the severity of the wounds he received during the Battle with the First, remain clouded in speculation and uncertainty._

 

_**I.** _

 

Faith, the vampire slayer, lay on top of her sheets and glared at her husband, Robin Wood. It still seemed strange when the thought sounded in her head, ‘her husband.’ She rolled over and pulled a pillow over her face.

“I’m not getting up. It’s early. Evil is still sleeping. We’ll fight Evil later, ‘kay?” The pillow muffled her voice, but the wheedling was unmistakable.

Wood stood at the end of the bed, regarding the young woman who was burrowing deep under the pillows. Her legs were bare, and her arms, but she wore a tank top and boxers which somewhat masked her more feminine charms. That was a good thing. Wood had discipline, lots of discipline, but Faith had an uncanny ability to distract him by using what he disparagingly referred to as ‘her wiles.’ 

“Evil doesn’t sleep, Faith. Evil hits the snooze four times this morning, I grant you, but I assure you it does not sleep. Perhaps if Evil had not kept you out clubbing last night so late, Evil would even now be up and eating breakfast.”

“We weren’t clubbing.” Faith peeked an eye out to glare at him again. “You asked me to check out _Delecto_ , so I went. It’s not like I have a ton of girlfriends to hang with, so Dawn went too. What’s your beef, Ricky?”

“Well, Lucy, I asked you to see if this new place was anything like _Caritas_. The last thing we need is a demon bar where they hand out destinies. You told me when you got home if you can recall that Lorne wasn’t even there. So why stay?”

Faith shook her head and sat up, then turned and slipped off the sheets like a whisper of silk across silk. For all her strength and her blunt approach on some subjects, the girl could move. Wood took a breath, held it a moment, then continued.

“If the anagogic demon is a silent partner, we know what we needed to know. So, why were you there until last call?”

“Hey, we got a deal. No big words before breakfast unless the world is ending. Then, not before lunch.” Her tone was joking, but he knew she was a little sensitive about her abbreviated schooling.

Faith was limbering, doing some little stretches that preceded her morning workout. She raised one leg, turning on her planted foot like a ballerina crossed with the karate kid. Her balance and awareness of her body in space were literally supernatural. He watched with a mix of affection and awe, as always.

“Honey, when was the last time I went out? When’s the last time Dawn went out? She’s been cracking the whip at the community college, taking extra classes, doing summer school. The only time we saw them since they got settled in the new place, what did she do?”

“Um, read a book while Xander grilled things. I see your point. Okay, I’m not upset you were out with your friend… but it ever occur to you I might want to know when you were coming home?”

Faith, bending nearly double, her hips popping and her lovely backside wagging slightly at him, looked back at him between her legs.

“Golly, Daddy, next time I’ll call so you won’t wait up.” She straightened and reached for a robe to wear into the dojo for some real exercise.

Wood made his move, two steps of his long legs, sliding next to her and pivoting so his shoulders led him between her and her robe, and her reaching arm slid around his waist. He grinned at her surprise.

“If I had known when you’d be home,” he told her with an arched eyebrow and a little hitch in his smile, “I would have been a lot more awake.” He kissed her forehead.

She went to close her arms around him and leaned up to kiss his lips. She never really noticed how tall he was until she was this close to him. He moved so smoothly you somehow forgot to notice he was that size. He proved her point by stepping with a little spin away from her, so she was left reaching for him and he was left holding her fingertips. He bowed dramatically and kissed them.

“Too late, sleepyhead. Not time enough for love today. We have a new client to meet, so you need to hurry up and get dressed.”

She blew a strand of dark chestnut hair away from her face and regarded him a moment. “Get naked, get dressed. Get in bed, go to work. I wish you’d make up your freakin’ mind,” she said. But she said it with a great deal of charm.

 


	2. Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "The truth is, Faith had never really had any friends..."

_** II. ** _

 

Faith was driving to the bank to drop off the deposit, and trying to decide if she should call Dawn. The truth is, Faith had never really had any friends, and it was still somewhat challenging for her to decide what things were private, and what should be shared, and what didn’t matter either way.

She decided to screw it and call anyway, but as she pulled into the bank drive-through her phone rang.

“Faith.” She answered the phone tersely, unable to read the caller ID from where her cell was plugged into the speakerphone cable.

“Hey Faith, it’s Dawn.” The young woman sounded a little rough around the edges. Apparently not having slayer strength and enhanced healing also included not resisting hangovers. She’d had what, one drink? Faith chuckled.

“Sound like a kitten in the snow there, Little D. What’s up?”

“I’ve been thinking about what you said last night. About you being tested... I think you should do it. And I want to help if I can.”

“Wicked. Hang on.” She dumped the bag into the commercial deposit. There were a lot more coins and a lot fewer checks in the bag than she would have liked, but the truth was, her business was largely a front anyway. It existed to give Faith and Wood a place to live, and train, and occasionally do some real good by providing protection to people who needed it but might not strictly be able to afford it.

“So, what exactly do I need to do to be prepared. Only tests I ever took were the Watcher’s Council examination. That didn’t go so hot.”

“Why don’t you guys come over this Friday night? We’ll go over it?”

Faith frowned. “Not such a good idea, D. Want to keep this quiet, at least for now. If Robin knows he’ll just try to help me, and the point of this is to try to take this thing on and beat it on my own. I mean, without him. I think you can handle helping me, you know.”

“No worries, Faith. Talk to you later this week, we’ll work out when you can train for the trials. Think up a cover story for Robin, will you? “

“Roger-Wilco, Dawn Patrol. See you then.”

As Faith drove home, she wondered about what to tell Wood. In their past, she’d taken some dangerous missions, and he’d trusted her. But he had also mother-henned her in some ways, and she naturally pushed away when he pulled close, which led to some friction.

That got her thinking of the night, and a different kind of friction. Maybe she could get all her errands done before they had to see the new client, and then they’d have the evening free? It would be nice to engage in her favorite non-lethal sport for a while before she had to devote all her energy to the tests that were awaiting her.

Probably best not to tell him anything… If she didn’t survive, he’d know soon enough, she guessed. Speaking of survival, it was time for her to get back over to the dojo and meet the new client.


	3. Part III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Faith, this is important, and I know that you can do it."
> 
> Faith's history makes for drama more than a little... and then there is Mayor Wilkins.

_**III.** _

 

When Faith got to the dojo, she noticed that Master Chen had put a new sign up in the front hall. He might be old enough to remember Woodrow Wilson, but he ran the desk efficiently and he periodically updated their advertising in a futile attempt to build up business. The new hand printed sign neatly stated “Faith Wood’s Dojo: Kempo, Master Sensei Robin Wood. Bodyguard Services. Herbal remedies.” Across the bottom was a red printed notice in a totally different style and font that read “High-Speed Wireless Internet!”

She shook her head at the white-bearded old man as she passed the desk. He did not look up, being buried in a folio-sized, illustrated edition of “The Magician’s Nephew,” so who could blame him. “Ni hao,” he muttered absently as she passed.

She passed the training room, peeking in to make sure that Corey’s _Tai Chi for Singles_ class hadn’t started yet. They tended to be pretty loud during breaks, but it was probably their most profitable class. She reached the meeting room, a small area partitioned off from the main training room and fitted with a western-style conference table and chairs.

Wood was sitting at the right-hand chair, which meant he expected her to sit at the papa-bear spot at the head of the table. He had firm ideas about who should be the face of the dojo for different clients. Anything supernatural, mystical or involving potential lethal force, it was Faith’s job to figurehead the table while he ran the details. Martial arts, tai chi, yoga, or any of the myriad side businesses that Master Chen dreamed up, she flanked Wood. It had generally worked out so far.

She said, “Thank you for waiting, gentlemen. Are we ready to start?” As she extended her hand to the man across from Wood, she said “How you doing, sir? I’m Faith.”

“Randy, please. Great to meet you. Heard good things about you from my aid Clayton Robison. He says you taught his martial arts class.” The man wore a suit, reasonably new and currently styled, but obviously off the rack. He matched it with a braided leather watchband, a red kabala string on his wrist and a very worn and broken in pair of Birkenstocks. Simple wire rim glasses that would have suited Gandhi, set off by hair that was more George Harrison in full-on sitar-playing guru mode. He was an interesting cat, and she liked him already.

She took her seat, and the two men sat as well. “So Randy, what brings you to the dojo? I take it you’re not here for our famous _Tai Chi for Singles_?”

“Well, ever since I started my new job, I’ve been getting threats. Nothing specific, just phone calls from pay phones, nasty notes on the windshield of my Prius. I blew them off, actually, but the other day someone sent a pig’s heart in a hatbox to my office. That kind of thing makes it hard to keep good assistants.”

“I see. Do you want us to investigate, or provide protective services, or both?” She was going to make notes, but a quick glance at Wood showed he had already filled a few pages of his legal pad. He could take notes faster than most folks could talk. It was kind of creepy.

“I’m happy to let the sheriff’s office run the investigation, but the town council insisted that I retain some, um, 'discrete muscle' was the term they used. I only agreed if I got to pick the people, and Clayton referred me to you.”

She remembered Clayton Robison. He was young but smart, with the kind of build you get from good genes because it certainly didn’t come from a natural workout ethic. He was a nice enough kid though, with the dark good looks that would have made him stand out anywhere other than Southern California. He also had been pretty good at the hybrid style martial arts she’d taught at the dojo.

“Well, any boss of Clayton is a client of ours,” she said with a smile. “I trust you two will work out the details…”

“There is one thing,” Wood interrupted her softly. “We’d like you to take responsibility for this assignment personally. Not work it full time, but run the team and get everything shaken down.”

“I see,” she said, obviously not seeing.

“This client has a certain profile, a certain amount of importance in the community which requires special handling. I’m sure we all want nothing but the best service, yes?”

They all nodded, and Randy stood up. “Faith, Mr. Wood, it’s been a pleasure. I look forward to working with you both.” They all shook hands.

“Thank you, Mayor Mitchell. I’m sure your trust in us will be well rewarded,” said Robin, seeing him to the door. Faith stood, stunned, one hand on the table as if to steady the room around her. She was still there a few minutes later, trying to get composure when Wood returned.

“Lucy, what’s wrong? You doan wanna be in de show?” When he went whole hog Ricardo on her, it was a sign he found her particularly irresistible and/or insufferable. She surprised him by not playing along.

“The mayor. That man’s a mayor?” She was obviously not pleased.

“Yes,” Wood frowned. “Of Ogdenville, just sworn in last month after a special election. Is that a problem? I thought we were looking for protection clients who were doing good work, who were trying to make a difference.”

“Yeah, that’s the plan, Wood.” Her voice was flat and cool, but she was speaking a little too quickly, trying to keep her control. “But you put me on it, me, to run protection on the freakin’ mayor? What the hell are you thinking?” She put both hands on the table and was looking right through him, to some past or future event that he didn’t share.

“Faith, this is important, and I know that you can do it. I trust you.” He paused, and decided that if the elephant in the drawing room wasn’t leaving any time soon, eventually they would have to comment on it. “Is this about him being mayor? Is it about what happened in Sunnydale with Mayor Wilkins?”

“Don’t!” she shouted shortly. “Don’t say that name here.” She slammed her hands down on the table and it groaned. 

“I’m sorry, Faith. That was a long time ago, and I guess I was wrong to assume you could put it behind you for this job.” He was concerned but not really upset. “In case you hadn’t noticed, Mayor Mitchell is no Richard Wilkins.”

“Don’t say it!” she yelled, fists blasting down on the table, which rocked once then neatly collapsed, split in two even pieces. “This is our home, we live here. Don’t say it.” And she pushed past him and out.

By the time he realized she was not stopping, she was on the street and heading to her car. They’d had spats before, when they first moved in together, when she had blown out in a huff only to come back. It usually meant a short talk, in which not much was explained but some things were worked out, and then really dynamite sex. He’d hoped they’d put that cycle behind them.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shout outs to former Apple warehouse specialist Clayton Robinson, every bit as handsome as depicted here. A somewhat more exaggerated version of Mac Genius Randy Mitchell, another fine young man. Thanks for loaning your names, boys.


	4. Part IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Faith watches Robin sleep.
> 
> No, really, that's what happens in this chapter.
> 
> "Mad skills."

_** IV. ** _

 

The next few days passed quickly. Faith had come home, sullen and uncharacteristically quiet. She’d spent some time working with Mayor Mitchell’s people setting up a security team, but had not really talked to the mayor himself much. She hadn’t had much to say to Robin either.

Faith watched Wood’s chest rise slowly as he slept, and then closed her eyes and listened hard to the soft release of breath. Every time he finished one breath, there would be the slightest pause before the next breath came. She thought about the wounds he’d received in the battle against the army of the First, back in Sunnydale. She’d expected him to die.

His breathing, so outwardly peaceful, beat painfully beside her night after night. She did not have to raise the sheet from his body to see the scars. She felt them in her fingertips, she felt them under her lips, she even felt their warm corrugation against her belly as he lay with her, she felt all of this in memory. When he fought too hard or trained too long, even after all this time, his wounds would weep blood, the drops falling like tears.

She turned over, away from him. It was hard to admit, but he was making her pensive. Her strengths were her body, her instincts, her gifts. She made Buffy Summers look like the thoughtful one, which hadn’t used to bother her, before Robin Wood. He made her reflective. He gave, better than he got, in so many ways.

The first time, after Sunnydale, she had meant to prove to him that he was no more than any another man. He had been rocked and rolled, been wrung out like a cloth, and afterward, looking at her, he had laughed. “Mad skills, dear girl. Mad skills.” His voice was full of warmth and humor, and it had cut her that he was so at peace with his world, and his place in it, and hers.

She’d looked at him as a challenge, a contest, and she hated to lose. It wasn’t till he was bleeding out again in an ambulance that she thought about what she was doing to him.

She had respected him, and his capacity to accept everything she was, while still demanding more, drove her to be better than she’d been. Her abilities, his discipline, they’d seemed a perfect match.

Once she had Robin back on his feet, she had married him and seen him happy. They had each been a challenge and a comfort to each other. She had been happy. It had been good. Now she knew she had another trial coming, another test, to prove if she was worthy.

She listened to his body, fighting to stay another day in the world. He was a better man than she deserved, and late at night, she wondered how she’d be punished for letting him love her.


	5. Part V

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not everything is fine and fluffy. The past is never fully... past.

_** V. ** _

 

The weekend came, and Faith convinced Wood they needed some time together. He readily agreed. He’d seen too little of her since their fight about the contract for Mayor Mitchell. When she’d suggested they call Xander and Dawn, he’d recalled their conversation about Dawn being buried in her books. It had sounded like a great idea to him.

Xander, when Wood had called him, was equally excited. Dawn was settling him rapidly into domesticity, against which he rebelled by becoming the undisputed master of the charcoal grill every weekend. Xander did some nice vegetarian options in deference to Robin. The two couples had not seen much of each other since they had returned to California from Chicago, and even that trip they rarely talked about. It was technically a violation of Faith’s parole for her to have left the state.

Faith smiled as they pulled into the driveway of the little house in Lago Vista. She could smell charcoal, and something with peppers, even from the driveway. It was pretty festive, and Faith had always loved a party.

Dawn was waiting for them in the doorway, looking both unchanged and somehow older than when she and Xander had started living together. Whatever Xander was doing for her, or to her, it agreed with her. Little sister was glowing like a firefly and tried her best to crush the Slayer with her welcoming hug.

They chatted, and drank iced tea and talked about the house and how tough it was getting everything really clean after a move. Faith had no idea what it was like to move. She’d never really moved before in her life, just fled one place to get to another. Still, Dawn’s house seemed supernaturally clean and homey to Faith, and Dawn obviously wanted Faith’s approval. So, Faith went from room to room with Dawn, reassuring her that the carpets were the right color, the furniture was the right style, and the library had the right mystical texts and charms.

Dinner was relaxed, under the grape arbor in the back yard, whose vines were starting to climb the wooden trellis. She found herself actually enjoying the younger woman’s quiet enthusiasm for domestic life, the white picket fence in the suburbs and tomatoes in the garden and all the rest. It was almost like a normal life.

She looked up at one point as Dawn went to get her another vodka and coke, and realized that her husband and Xander were again conversing quietly over by the grill. They’d done that a lot this evening.

“Hey, old man,” she called to Wood. “What are you two up to? Thick as thieves, man, thick as thieves. I swear, you better not be talking about me!”

“No, no, just talking over some old times, Faith, no biggie.” Xander was a little too glib, though with him it was still sometimes hard to tell. He never could lie to her, though. He looked guilty.

“Okay. Well, you guys better not be comparing notes, lover boy, you’ll make Dawnie jealous!” As she said it, she realized it was the wrong thing.

Suddenly she was back in grade school in Boston, asking her dad what mom had said to get that shiner. She was in confession, telling her priest that he’d had more altar boys than she had, so he could kiss her ass. She was telling Buffy they could dump the body in the river and no one would ever know. It was all the wrong things she’d said, and she saw the look between the two men.

It had never come up, she realized. Robin knew she’d been with men, a lot of men before he knew her- some of them good, some evil, all meaningless. She’d never mentioned Xander. The poor boy had cared for her. She’d used him, hard and cruel because it had suited her. She’d hardly thought about it since. It was a different time.

There was a crash, and she looked to see Dawn, looking at an empty glass lying on a tray, as the drink spilled out over her hands onto the ground.

“Hey. Dawn. I thought you knew. It was a long time ago.”

Dawn continued to stare at the vodka and coke dripping at her feet. “I need to clean up. Excuse me.” She turned to go.

“Dawn!” Xander called, moving towards her, “Honey? It’s not… Dawn!” He followed her, and Faith heard their voices, the one hurt, the other trying to explain, as they moved into the house. She stood, and saw that Robin was there, holding his hand out to her.

“We should go. You and I need to talk.” He waited for her, hand out. She shrugged past him and around the house, got into the car and stared out the window.


	6. Part VI

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Why was Faith upset about the mayor? What exactly was Wood thinking? Finally, what's this about a monorail?

_**VI.** _

 

A few minutes later, Robin slid behind the wheel and started the car.

“I told them we’re sorry. I told them to call us, and thanked them for their hospitality,” Wood said through his anger and his surprise. He began to drive them back to Anaheim.

“I think she’ll be okay,” he said. “That’s not how she should have found out.”

“Sorry, chief, I just say the wrong thing sometimes.”

“It’s not how I should have found out either. You hurt him.”

“You’ll deal. You know you can’t resist me. Besides, it was a long time ago. I’m sure he’s fine.“ She reached out to put a hand on his thigh as he drove.

“You think I care about what you did with some boy, five years before we met? Is that it? I don’t mean you hurt him then, I mean you hurt him now. By hurting Dawn, in their home, when they thought you were their friend.” He took her hand and put it back on her own lap. “Don’t play me, girl.  Not ever, and most of all not now.”

She looked out the window into the dusk and watched the highway lights come on as they traveled home. Without turning to him, she asked, “So what did you say to him, anyway?”

She wondered how long it would take everyone to forget her latest mistake. It seemed like a pattern to Faith: everyone welcomes her. She screws up. Most of them forgive her, some don’t. This cycle repeats, tighter and tighter. Someday the last person would be gone and she’d wonder who to ask forgiveness from then.

“I’ll tell you what I’d asked him, Faith. I asked him to tell me everything he knew about Mayor Richard Wilkins. It took a while.”

Oh. That. She should have known Robin would never let it lie, would never leave it and let it scab over. He wanted to pick at it and poke at it, keep the wound fresh. He was tough that way.

“He was my boss. He was evil. Big Bad, pitch-black type evil. But he was also powerful, and charming, and he cared about me. So he made me his bodyguard, and his assassin.” Her voice was calm and soft, and she never stopped looking out the window. The words flowed out of her, over her, away.

“He got me to kill for him, and to lie, and to spy, and to hurt for him. Damn near die for him. And I did it- I did it all. The state shrinks said I did it because I lacked a nurturing environment and a strong male role model. The priest said I was tempted by corruption and evil because I lacked, heh heh, faith.”

She sighed. “Then Buffy Summers put a knife in my gut and twisted it, so she could feed my blood to Angel, her vampire champion. Another Slayer decided I was worth less to the world than a mass-murdering vampire, because he had a soul, and as far as anyone knew, I didn’t. It took a long time, but after I recovered, I realized that there was something Buffy had I never would, she had family.”

“She had friends and people who would fight for her, and even fight against her when they thought she’d made mistakes. Eventually, they brought me back to Sunnydale, to fight the First. I tried to fit in, but it was tough. You remember what it was like. No matter how good I am, or how tough, or how right, she’s always going to be the Chosen One, and I’m just another girl who could be a Slayer.”

“That’s not true, Faith. You know why I put you on Mayor Mitchell's detail? Because you’ve seen real evil. Our students have seen danger, and we’ve shown them strength, and speed, and tried to teach them discipline. But sometimes in this world, you have to see evil, and know it, and beat it. I’m betting you can do that.”

“You really love me, don’t you?” She was looking at him, her dark eyes burning in the dusk, her dark hair framing the round face with the little, pointed chin, so beautiful and so fey.

“Of course I do. I wouldn’t have married you just for the sex, you know.” He tried to put a little lightness into the line. “I mean, look at me, girl. Sex is everywhere, a man be this fine.”

She grinned and reached over to rub the skin of his scalp. She loved it when he was shaved smooth like he was carved from some precious wood. Robin Wood. She chuckled, almost giggled, a most unusual sound.

“Take me home,” she ordered him grandly. “Make love to me, and then hold me close until morning. After that, I need you to cover first shift guarding the mayor for me. He’s at the North Haverbrook transit center, some ceremony for the monorail extension.”

“Why, where are you going to be?” He cocked an eyebrow at her as he drove.

“Begging for forgiveness from Xander and Dawn, of course.”

“Okay.” He nodded thoughtfully. “It’s a good thing I love you, Lucy.”

“Oh, Ricky,” she sighed, and closed her eyes anticipating the arrival home.


	7. Part VII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What makes ordinary people ordinary?"
> 
> Faith tries to apologize to Dawn and learns her shocking theory.

_** VII. ** _

 

The next morning, Faith went straight to Dawn’s door and rang the bell. She’d thought about calling, but had no idea what she’d have said. She was wearing a navy blouse and khaki Dockers, what she thought of as her client interview suit. It was a little dressy for begging on your knees for forgiveness, but she didn’t have much in her wardrobe that didn’t feature black, or leather, or black leather. She needed to work on that.

She heard someone coming to the door, and it opened to reveal Dawn, dressed in a robe and wearing her bunny slippers. Her hair was still tousled, and she looked about fourteen years old but beautiful. She frowned at Faith.

“What do you want?”

“Dawn, can I come in?”

“Depends. What do you want?”

Faith opened her hands, palms up. “To say I’m sorry, to try to explain. Mostly to say I’m sorry and see if we’re still gonna be friends.”

Faith waited. The silence stretched out a bit.

“Well,” said Dawn, “I actually needed to talk to you anyway. Come on in.”

They sat at the kitchen table. Dawn made herself some tea, and coffee for Faith. As Dawn put away the tea things, Faith noticed it was the same tea Robin made when his old wound was bothering him. It was something Willow had taught her, back in the Summers’ house in Sunnydale.

“Your stomach bothering you, D? Wood drinks this stuff a lot.”

“I didn’t sleep very well last night. A little acid reflux.”

“And I didn’t help, did I?” Faith put her hand on Dawn’s. “Listen, you know me, Dawn. I talk before I think. Not so much as before, but still, I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just wasn’t thinking.”

“You know what hurt? Not that you and Xander had been together, I mean, I listened to him and Anya a lot more than I care to think about. I know there were women before me in his life. It hurt that there were still important things about him that could jump up and surprise me like that. You think you know a guy…”

“You _do_ know him. I sure don’t want to go into details, but Xander and I, he was trying to be a good guy, and be there for me, a long time ago. I wasn’t ready to be helped, and I’m sure I screwed him up pretty good for his trouble. But he was a good guy, Dawn. Still is, and anybody can see how much he loves you. Boy has it wicked bad, hon.”

“I know, I guess.” Dawn sipped her tea and looked thoughtful. “There’s something I’ve been thinking about, and I had decided I needed to call you but after last night I wasn’t sure how.”

“Well, I’m all ears, if you agree to put my major attack of foot-in-mouth disease behind us?”

“Sure. Okay, I want you to tell me what you and Buffy have in common, other than your amazingly individual fashion sense and the ability to kick demon ass.”

“Aside from the slaying?” She sipped her coffee, frowning. “We both had our asses saved by Angel a time or two, both nearly had to kill him. Um, Watchers. The First. Dunno what else.”

Dawn looked at her thoughtfully. “As far as I can tell from the Watcher diaries, as of next month, Buffy will be the oldest living Slayer. Ever. You’re what, just a few months behind?” 

The young woman got up and poured more tea, and then pulled a notebook from her Ogdenville Community College school bag.

“Well, Buffy was called first, so I guess she has rank.” Faith decided not to mention her own jail time, or her time in a coma, not sure how they should count anyway.

“Yes, but she died and was gone a while before coming back. It’s about a wash, near as I can tell. You ever wonder why she made it so long?”

Faith thought about her conversation last night with Wood. “Family. I think Spike said it once, like ‘a Slayer with family and friends, bloody hell!’ I know that if it wasn’t for her friends looking out for her, I might have killed her myself, back then.”

Dawn grinned. “A lot of people hit the friends angle, but the Watcher diaries show a lot of Slayers had friends. Robin’s mom even had a lover when she was called. But in the end, it never mattered. I’ve been doing some research, and I have a theory.”

“Well, lay it one me, Research Girl.” Faith was really interested now and was happy to put the previous night’s incident behind them.

“How many brothers and sisters do you have, Faith?” She took a clean piece of paper and a pen and set them in front of her on the table.

“Just my lonesome, if you aren’t counting you and Buffy and the new Slayers.”

Dawn wrote ‘only child’ on her paper, and put ‘Faith Wood’ under it. “Okay, let’s name some more. Xander Harris. Willow Rosenberg. Robin Wood. Rupert Giles. You see where this is going?”

Faith looked at the list. “I got one. William the Bloody. Oh, and Wesley Windham-Pryce.”

“Mmm hmm, and let’s not forget....” She put Buffy’s name down. “For most of her formative slaying career, you can’t count me, can you? See the pattern?”

“It’s pretty clear, I grant you. Still, what does that show? I mean lots of folks don’t have a lot of kids, you know?” Faith was looking at the list and thinking. She could have added Fred Burkle to that list. “Oh, Cordy Chase.”

Dawn nodded and added her to the list. “I forgot that one. We maybe could put Oz on here too. I think he had an older brother maybe, but none of us ever really knew for sure. Anyway, you said, ‘a lot of folks don’t have many kids.’ Ever notice how many of us kids don’t have many folks?”

She made a new column titled ‘single parent’ and put check marks next to Buffy, Faith, Robin, and after a moment, Spike. Then she made another column ‘useless, cruel or missing parents’ and put checks by Xander, Willow, Wesley, Cordy, Tara, and Oz.

“Whoops, forgot a special category.” Dawn was deep into this now, and it was obvious she had given it a lot of thought. She wrote, “Magically created people” and wrote, “Dawn Summers, Anyanka C. E. Jenkins” on it, and checked the appropriate columns.

“Okay, so we got some screwed up family lives. What about it? I know you didn’t do all this work just for kicks.” Faith was looking at the list. She knew she could have added more, people she’d known, friends she’d seen fall.

“What makes ordinary people ordinary? Their whole lives, their experiences, their families, it’s a whole package.” Dawn got up and was pacing, her bunny slippers scuff scuffing across the tile floor. “The last time Buffy died, she didn’t want to come back. What finally made her accept it at all was the idea that I was going to be here alone without her. She’s slacked off a little in the sistering department since then I admit, but she did a pretty good job of saving the world after that realization. So, to some extent, the world exists because she had a family.”

“I’m with you, D. Family good. Rah-rah-rah for family. But where do you go from there?”

“Faith, don’t you see? What’s missing here? Generations. Our parents are almost all dead or gone. We have no children, and almost no brothers and sisters. We have no base, so every little apocalypse that comes along throws us. It seems like… like…” She looked for words.

“Like the end of the world?” Faith asked with a grin. “So I ask ya again, what do we do about it?”

Dawn grinned and sat back down. She took a sip of her tea and looked around as if suddenly worried they might be overheard. “Well,” she said, “I’m not sure about you, but I’m starting by getting pregnant.” She folded her hands over her still very flat stomach and beamed.

“You’re… when are you planning on doing this, and when are you telling Xander?”

“Um, about three weeks ago, for the first part. I was sort of hoping you could help me with the second part. I wanted to try this theory out on you first.”

Faith looked at Dawn, then at Dawn’s belly, then back at her radiant grin. “I just ask one thing, Dawn. Don’t tell him suddenly. I’d hate for him to die of shock before we get a look at the expression on his face. Oh, and better tell Buffy soon after, or she’ll turn us both inside out for hiding it from her.”

Faith gave Dawn a big hug and was surprised at how happy she was for her friend. The theory might be nonsense, but it had a certain logic. Faith was woman enough to know there are times when happy baby-making has a strong appeal. She realized that’s why Dawn was burning through the Ogdenville Community College catalog. She was trying to finish before her baby and her body gave her a deadline.

Faith drove home, so lost in thought she missed her exit and had to double back. She thought about Wood, and what sort of father he’d make. It was a weird thought, something they had never really discussed. She missed the parking garage entrance too, and finally gave up trying to concentrate and just parked on the street.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robin Wood meets death at the Transit Authority.

_** VIII. ** _

 

Robin Wood waited in the conference room lounge of the Transit Authority. He’d already swept the area for anything suspicious. He had one of his students, Toni King, a dangerous redhead with almost as much experience with a sword as he had, working the crowd outside. Something still didn’t seem right, so he’d stayed behind when Mayor Mitchell had gone into the conference room with his counterparts from North Haverbrook and Lago Vista.

They had some minor details to go over before they announced the extension of the monorail into Lago Vista. Wood rarely rode the little trains, since they mostly connected the mall in North Haverbrook with the campus in Ogdenville and some commercial parks in Brockway. Adding a Lago Vista line, with its bedroom communities, should make the system a lot more viable, or so went the logic.

Wood reviewed in his mind the report he’d received that morning from the sheriff’s office. It seemed the person most likely to be responsible for the harassment of Mayor Mitchell was the former mayor herself, Ms. Lena Beauxchance. She’d been driven from office in a bribery and corruption scandal and had then jumped bail after being indicted on fraud and conspiracy charges. Her whereabouts were unknown.

One piece of information that Wood was privy to (and his sheriff’s office contacts were not), was that Lena Beauxchance was a known figure in the supernatural underworld, having put hexes on opponents and critics for years. Nothing apocalyptic, just the sort of dime store evil that had greased the wheels against the interest of good honest people for years.

What Wood did not know, was that Beauxchance had decided to up the ante. She had been tipped off that Mitchell had protection, and had paid dearly for two items to tip the scales in her favor. First, she had a glamor cast, which rendered her unremarkable. It was a lot cheaper than invisibility and less likely to be magically warded against. You could still see her, but it took amazing will and clarity of mind to actually notice her.

Second, she had purchased a blade, a thin triangular blade of obsidian that could pass through any metal detector, like those at the transit center entrances. It was sharp enough to be lethal, and she knew she could throw it accurately out to about twelve feet. Before she was that close to the new Mayor, she needed to eliminate his bodyguard. She walked, unnoticed, past the standard security and up to the conference room lounge.

Robin Wood stood, tranquil, peaceful, in the center of a room. His eyes were open, but he was looking inward, processing with his mind and not his eyes. He was standing that way, thinking about nothing, worried about nothing, when Death came for him.

A knife flew through the air, aimed for a spot just below his shoulder blade. It was slender and black and only the slightest exhale of breath from the woman who had thrown it marked its passage. Her eyes shone and a grin began to form as the blade hurtled through the air towards Wood.

With one motion, he bent one knee and reached towards the small of his back. This caused him to drop slightly and to pivot. As he drew a small wooden sword from a sheath in his jacket, he continued to duck and turn, whipping around as he spun into the ground.

The white silk handle of his hardwood blade made his dark hands look almost ebony, as they whipped his sword through the space his body had occupied moments before. With a single sharp exhalation, he drove his bent leg straight, snapping back to his full height as his blade connected with the knife precisely where he had been standing.

“ _KI!_ ” came the sound, from his mouth, from his chest, from the muscles of his arms, the powerful flesh of his legs. His whole body moved, just as he had been trained so long ago. Just one “ _KI_!” and there was a knife, now whistling back the way it had come, rotating slightly from the spin of his blocking blade.

With a sigh, the knife ended its whispering flight, protruding from the throat of the woman who had thrown it. It fixed her grin, not faltering even as she slowly collapsed. A knife, buried there just so, does not kill instantly. She had time to realize that he had killed her. Then she was gone.

Wood looked at the body of Lena Beauxchance. It was unremarkable, almost unnoticeable on the floor, surrounded by a small pool of blood. He recognized the effect, and almost chuckled to himself. “Stupid, stupid woman,” he commented to her corpse.  “I didn’t notice you there. But I had plenty of time to notice a knife flying at my back. You should have stuck to politics.”

He considered just tipping the body into a dumpster. While the glamor endured he might have gotten away with it, but he finally decided to call the sheriff. Of course, the way he told it, she had snuck up on him and tried to use her knife, somehow falling on it during the struggle. Better not call attention to the hardwood bokuto, a shorter, modified version of the practice sword used in kendo, which he carried beneath his jacket.

The sword was pointed, but not edged, and fire hardened with a smooth finish and a cloth grip. In his hands, it was almost as deadly as a steel blade and worked well on vampires too. And of course, it passed through metal detectors with ease, another reason to perhaps not mention his superior swordsmanship display to the sheriff. He glanced at Beauxchance’s knife and noted the flaked obsidian edge. He’d have to remember that idea, too.

By the time all the police reports and paperwork were done, and Mayor Mitchell safely on his way home, a town car of guards discreetly tailing his signature hybrid coupe, Wood was exhausted.

He wasn’t certain, but it was better than even odds his old wound had opened during his fight at the transit center. He was anxious to get home and prepare the herbal remedies that best treated the wounds caused by the ubervamps, the Turok-han. He got in his car and headed back to the dojo, already feeling the blood seeping into his shirt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this scene 6 months before the rest of the story came together around it.


	9. Part IX

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robin and Faith go to bed.

_** IX. ** _

 

Faith lay on her bed, a little silken something covering her body, but leaving her arms and legs bare. She’d been waiting for a while for Wood to come home and pondering what Dawn had told her. The more she thought about it, the more it made a certain kind of sense.

She’d called her husband on his cell, and all he’d told her was that he’d killed an attacker, and the police were taking statements. She knew it could take hours, and had made a call to the dojo’s lawyer, a contact provided by the new Slayers’ Council. She’d then proceeded to pace a groove in the floor, thinking about Wood.

He was a good man. Not perfect; he tended to idealize the whole Slayer thing, probably because of his mom. He also drove himself too hard, and sometimes her as well. But the more she thought about it, the more she could see him as a father.

She did not have good luck with father figures, by blood or by association. She’d wondered a few times what would have happened in her life if she’d had Rupert Giles as her Watcher, the Great White Father of their little band. Not much would have been different, was her conclusion, because she hadn’t been ready to listen. 

Mayor Wilkins was still the closest thing to a father she’d ever had. As perverse as it was, she missed that still, sometimes. When the First had appeared to her, wearing his face, she’d known it was a lie. She’d known it was Evil. And she’d known that she wasn’t the person who followed that Boss anymore. Yet still, she’d wanted to hug him. She’d wanted to hear him say he approved of her.

“This is wicked screwed up,” she said to herself. One thing was certain, beyond any argument. She wanted to talk to Wood about Dawn’s theory, and see how he took the news that maybe being married, having children, making strong ties with friends like Xander and Dawn, maybe that was part of saving the world, too.

Besides, she’d heard on Oprah and whatever that sex trying to make a baby is the best sex there is. Add to that Wood having just killed someone, in a sword fight no less, and they should be breaking the freakin’ furniture.

She heard Robin coming down the hall, heard him toss his keys into the bowl on the table, and the door to the bedroom slid open. Backlit by the hall lights, he was tall, striking, and just all around manly. She forgot her carefully planned speech and just launched herself at him.

“Missed me today, girl?” he asked her, trying to push her back a bit and keep his footing.

“Mm-hmm,” she moaned into him, spinning him around and backing him towards the bed with kisses, pulling at his belt.

“Hey there, little firecracker. Slow down.” He almost never called her that because it made her go all mushy, and she usually punched him on the arm when he did it. His knees hit the edge of the bed and he went down, his arms thrown out to the sides to catch him.

She stood over him, straddling his knees, and whipped his belt out of his pants so fast it cracked like a whip. She looked down at him, spread-eagled on the bed except where she had trapped his powerful legs between her thighs.

“Yowza,” she purred. “Momma like!”

“Faith... honey…” Wood was frowning at her, trying to sit up. “This isn’t really the best time…” And with that, his eyes went unfocused and he started to slump back to the bed. His shirt came open, and Faith could see the pale silvery scars across his belly, and the rich black blood beading along them. She looked down at her silk negligee and saw that it was smeared with his blood as well.

“Oh, crap!” She grabbed the phone off the table and flipped it open. Instead of 9-1-1, she buzzed the desk.

“Master Chen! Master Chen, I need you. It’s Robin, he’s bleeding again, bad.” She flung the phone down, and lay next to Wood, taking his face in her hands. “What have you done, honey? What are you thinking?”

He had no response, and his breathing was irregular. She slapped his face lightly and barked at him. “Hey! Wood! Snap out of it. Come back here right now. Don’t you leave me, you glorious bastard! I need you. We all need you.”

And then Master Chen was there, his dark eyes sweeping over Wood. He reached out to touch Wood’s chest, the skin on his ancient hands so thin and fine it was like rice paper. He murmured something and moved his other hand across Wood’s face. Suddenly, there was an incense stick burning in his hand, and the smoke spiraled lazily around Wood’s face.

Faith moved back, holding Wood’s hand and feeling useless. Chen touched Robin on the chest again, a slight tap, and then Wood took a shuddering breath. Smoke was drawn into his nostrils, and his body shook all over like he’s stepped from a pool into the wind. His eyes blinked slowly, and he looked at Faith. He tried to speak, but no words came.

“Oh, Ricky,” she sighed at him, worry scrunching her features despite her efforts to appear calm for him. “We have to take care of you, okay? Just relax.”

“It’s going to be okay,” he whispered. His eyes closed. “You look great, Lucy.” And then his breathing became more regular, more peaceful, and he stopped trembling. Faith looked to Master Chen, who sat contemplating Wood.

“Is he going to be okay? Tell me he is, Master Chen, please.”

“Is beyond my ability to help, Mei Mei. I make him sleep, and he will rest. But his wounds are deep and have fought the healing of a strong man for a long time. He needs powerful magic, or powerful medicine, maybe both.”

“But you can help him? You know someone who can help him, right?” She had never seen the ancient man, with his long white beard and his bushy brows, look so sad.

“I cannot fix, but I will see. Tonight I pray, and tomorrow, I ask my father if he know. I ask my grandfather. If there is a way, we find. Now, you clean him careful, with herbs I give him before.You sit with him, hold head in lap and tell him happy things. Tomorrow I ask my father, ask my grandfather, we find a way.”

“Yes, Master Chen. Thank you.” 

“I go finish book now and pray. You rest, Mei Mei, and talk to him.”

He turned and slowly went back to his seat at the front desk. She was left, holding Wood’s head, cradled in her lap.

From somewhere deep in her childhood, she pulled a memory of her mother, holding her that way when she was just four or five. It was mumps or measles or something that she should have had shots for, and she hadn’t and had been very sick. She smelled her mother’s scent, the shampoo, and the cheap laundry soap, for just a moment as she took the herb compress from the bedside table and began to carefully clean his wounds.

As the bleeding slowed, and her memory of her mother was pushed away by the smell of the herbs and the coppery tang smell of blood, she realized she was softly singing, the same song her mother had sung all those years ago in Southy.

> _ “Some bright morning when this life is over, I’ll fly away.” _
> 
> _ “To that home on God’s celestial shore, I’ll fly away.” _
> 
> _ “I’ll fly away, O Glory, I’ll fly away.” _
> 
> _ “When I die, Hallelujah, by and by, I’ll fly way…” _

Her tears fell, and her voice failed, and she whispered to him of life and love and never letting go, and she was still there gently rocking him when the morning came.


	10. Part X

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Willow and Kennedy get a call.

_** X. ** _

 

In a flat in south London, a phone was ringing. This was not unusual. It was an unlisted line, but quite a few people had the number. It was ringing at 3:30 in the morning, which did make it unusual. The owner of the flat glared at the clock, then at the phone, willing it to stop ringing. It did not.

She elbowed her girlfriend in the ribs. “Hey. Hey, phone.”

Without opening her eyes, the young woman’s girlfriend nodded and said, “Yes. Phone.” She started to burrow back under the duvet.

“Willow, phone!” Kennedy’s voice was urgent and sleepy a the same time. They had both been up late, working on a project for the Slayers’ Council, and then had not gone to sleep for quite a while after going to bed.

“ _Adesdum_ ,” muttered Willow Rosenberg, gesturing vaguely at the phone. It lifted and swooped towards her, but in her rather relaxed state, she did not exercise much control. It nearly bounced off Kennedy’s skull, and the young woman went rolling out of the way. The phone came to a stop with the antenna poking Willow in the nose.

“Object lesson,” she said, sitting up and grabbing the phone from the air. “Never do magic when you’re asleep.” She hit the answer button and the phone stopped ringing at last. “Hello?”

“Willow, is that you?” She knew that voice, and she knew that tone.

“Xander, it’s me. What’s wrong?” She was already getting out of bed, finding her slippers with her toes as she grabbed some clothes off the top of her dresser. “Is it Dawn?”

“No, no, Dawn’s fine. She’s acting kind of weird lately, but she’s got finals… Anyway, the reason I’m calling: it’s Robin Wood.” She heard the concern in his voice. “He’s been in and out of the hospital three times this week.”

“His stomach?” Willow shuddered, remembering the way Wood had made it all the way out of Sunnydale, fighting hard against the Turok-Han even after they’d put claws into his stomach and chest. They had been unable to heal him completely, but she’d taught him some herbal remedies that had helped.

“It’s bad, Will. Remember Master Chen, the folk healer guy they have over at the dojo? He says that Robin may not last the week, and this is a guy who sews hands back on or something. Very big with the healing mojo.”

“Okay, that’s bad. How’s Faith holding up?” She worried what the strain might be doing to Faith. Willow had never been entirely comfortable with Faith, even after she brought her to Sunnydale from LA. There was always the thought that Faith was one sharp shock away from killing everyone Willow knew.

“That’s the good part, actually. She’s been amazing. She’s been with Robin every minute, and when he’s been too out of it to notice, she’s been rounding up doctors, beating bits of healing lore out of every shaman, demon, or internist from here to Santa Barbara. She wanted to give blood, but she’s the wrong type.”

“Blood… Hey, what type is Faith?” She was mulling options in her mind. Mulling sounds leisurely, reflective. Mulling sounds like something seasonal, something pastoral, like baseball, with no clock and no hurry. Willow Rosenberg was a very, very bright young woman. She "mulled" pretty damn fast.

“Uh, AB-negative, I think. Robin’s B-positive. I’m A-negative.” In Sunnydale, most kids knew their blood types before they could recite their home address or name all the characters on _Scooby Doo_. It wasn’t a part of life there that they missed.

“Isn’t Dawn an O? She can donate to anyone.” There was something important niggling at the back of Willow’s mind. She knew if she thought hard about it, it would shimmer away like a soap bubble, but if she were patient, it would come. Mulling, mulling.

Xander sighed, and for a moment he sounded old. “Yeah, Dawn’s an O. She wanted to give but when they took a little she hurled. She’s been kind of queasy all week. I think she’s got the stomach bug that’s going around.”

“Oh, Xander, poor kid. Tell her I’m sorry and I’ll send more of that tea she asked for.” Willow stopped and looked at herself. During the conversation, she had apparently been getting dressed, since she was standing in her living room, fully clothed. Now, where was she going? Mulling, mulling.

“Xander, Buffy!” It was so obvious. Now she knew why she was dressed. She had to go to Buffy’s, and it was still far from light out. It would be cold waiting for the first train out to Surrey, to Giles’ place, where Buffy was staying currently.

“Buffy… what? Some of us are tired, and not nearly as smart as you, Will.” She could hear the smile that came with the jibe.

“Buffy and Dawn have the same blood, that’s why Buffy could close that gateway. Buffy’s O-positive. What could heal the wounds from a Turok-Han better than the blood of a Slayer?”

“But, Will, Buffy gave blood after the battle, we all did.”

“Sure, Xander, but I don’t know about you, I was a little busy trying to figure out where we were going and how we were getting there. It’s not like I stood over the Red Cross guy saying ‘this blood goes here, that blood goes there,’ or anything

“Um, actually, Will, you did. Remember? They had to sedate you.”

Willow frowned and blushed. “Oops, yeah. Big needle. Sorry about that. Was still riding the goddess high for a while there. Anyway, I need to get to Giles’ place and run this by him. Then we’ll figure out how to get Buffy’s blood to you guys as soon as possible okay?”

Xander’s voice was tired but hopeful. “Ever mention that I love you, Will?”

She grinned. “Yeah, yeah, but only when you’re trying to save the world.”

He laughed, and she realized she’d missed that laugh. It had been too long.

“Fair enough. Call me when you know something okay?”

“Will do,” she replied. “Bye.” She thought for a minute. “Kennedy? Kennedy!”

“Yes?” came the grumpy reply. Kennedy came out, wearing a merlot silk camisole and black flannel boxers, her hair a mess, and so beautiful it almost worked anyway. “Why are you yelling at me? It’s like, four in the morning.”

“I’m going to Giles’. I need you to start packing, could you?”

“Of course, love, but not until you kiss me.” She pouted and puckered, eyes closed. She could get away with that because she saved it for special occasions.

Willow laughed and planted a quick bus on her lips. “We’re going to California, near Anaheim. Me, you, and either Buffy or a big bag of her blood, not sure which.”

Kennedy blinked, considering this for a moment. “Our lives are different from other people’s,” she stated. She yawned. “Okay, call me when you know what’s the what.”

By five thirty, Willow was on a train from Waterloo Station to Weybridge, in Surrey south of London. She wondered what Buffy would say, whether Giles would agree with her plan. She wondered if maybe they could all get together again, and have it be like old times. Only, without, you know, all the apocalypses.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Regarding Willow's girlfriend: in my head-canon, "Kennedy" is her last name, not her first name. She mentions being very wealthy, so in my head, she's not just "Kennedy," she's "A Kennedy." 
> 
> Let that sink in. 
> 
> No impact on the story, but it's in my head, and now it's in yours. You're welcome.
> 
> “Our lives are different from other people’s."   
> One weakness I have as a writer, I love taking one character's quotes and passing them to another. Surely you'll recognize this as Daniel "Oz" Osbourne's line from the series, but it fits so nicely here.


	11. Part XI

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Faith is tired.
> 
> Wood makes final arrangements.
> 
> Xander assumes a jaunty air.

_**XI.** _

 

Faith looked at Robin’s hand as she held it in hers. His skin, normally such a rich mahogany, was chalky, ashen as the blood seeped from his side and the years old poison worked in the scars left by the Turok-Han. His hand was cool, and soft, where it should have been dark and strong as hot black coffee. It was wrong, wrong in a way that scared her.

“Lucy, you doan look so happy,” Wood whispered to her. His voice was strong but very soft, and he took long pauses between phrases. His face was puffy from the drugs they had tried at the last hospital visit, and his normally crisp goatee was shot with gray the color of maple ashes, and uneven at the edges, as she did not want to trim it while he was sleeping, and he refused her help when he was awake.

“Hey there, Ricky.” She took his hand and opened it in hers, kissing his cool pale palm with her warm lips, willing the heat from her blood to his. She would have cried if she had tears left. “Good news, good news today. Willow and Kennedy are coming tomorrow. They’ve been working with Giles and Buffy. Everything is going to be okay, you hear me?”

“Faith,” he asked seriously, “is Xander still here? I need to see him before I fall asleep again. Missed him last time, and we need to talk about some things.” He lay propped in the bed they had shared since their wedding night, wrapped like a mummy from the armpits down to his legs. His robe was loose about him, sizes too big where it had fit a month ago.

“It can wait, baby, wait until you’re feeling better, okay?” She didn’t like to admit it, but she was jealous of the time he was awake now, jealous of every minute that they had together.

“No, I need him. There are things… things I need to have taken care of.” He turned his head away slightly.

“Don’t you dare, don’t you talk like that!” She wanted to shake him, to slap him. She wanted to grab him and hug him and make love to him. She wanted to not let him go. She settled for squeezing his hand and raising her voice to a loud whisper. “You’re going to be okay and then we can talk to anybody you like, once Willow gets here. Nothing Red can’t do, she gets her mind around it. Our girl’s wicked smart.”

“I love you, Faith.” He paused, whether for breath, or from pain, or because he had said all he could say she could not tell. “I know you love me, so do as I say, woman. Get out. Get me Xander. Please.”

She rose, and quickly kissed the top of his head as she left. He was stubbly, and that to her was more traumatic then seeing him so weak. It was all so wrong. She ran into the hall, and then calmed herself before walking down to the training room where the others had set up their impromptu vigil.

They all looked up when she came in, Xander and Dawn, Master Chen, Corey and Toni and all the senior students of the dojo. The newer students had been chased out and made to go home, but there was always one on the desk, in some rotation they had worked out among themselves, so that she never had to do more than call up front to have medicine picked up, messages run, visitors fetched. Everyone in the room now was looking, and carefully not asking the Question.

“He’s awake.” She had learned to tell them quickly so they did not wonder if she was come to break news. “Xander, he wants you, but try to hurry, please? Don’t let him get too tired.”

“Of course.” The broad-shouldered builder, his eye patch and white turtleneck with black jeans making him look far more distinguished than she remembered, rose quickly. “I’ll be right back, Hon,” he told his young lover, Dawn.

Faith sat with her, and Dawn reached out to hold Faith’s hand. Her hands felt hot, and it made Faith think about how cool Wood had felt to her.

“It’s going to be fine, Faith.” Dawn’s blue-grey eyes were enormous in her fair face, and she was looking at Faith with absolute earnestness.

Faith just lowered her head, letting her forehead touch the young woman’s shoulder, and she waited. 

Xander opened the door and moved to Robin’s side. He waited a moment, and then assumed his patented jaunty air.

“Hey there, slacker. Are you still in bed? You got any idea what time it is?”  
Wood looked at him and smiled. “Hey, pirate, don’t you come in here, with your jaunty airs. We need to talk.” His smile trailed off in a wince, and then he resumed his serious face.

“This is going to be tough for Faith, Xander. She hasn’t really been alone, not since prison. You and Dawn need to keep an eye on her.”

“Sorry, governor. No can do.” Xander pointed to his patch. “Haven’t got one to spare, guess you’ll just have to pull through.”

“Damn it, I’m serious.” Wood looked put out.

“Serious? I’d say critical.” Xander flashed a tired grin.

“You know what they say, everyone’s a critic.” They both smiled, and for a few minutes, Robin talked softly to his friend about the dojo, about his lawyer and the will he had made when he got married. Xander was impressed by the thought that had gone into Wood’s planning.

“That’s everything… everything I could think of…” Wood’s voice was fading, and his eyes remained closed for a long time. Xander touched his shoulder, then drew a blanket over his friend’s chest and started towards the door.

“Xander.”

Xander turned at his name, looking to where Wood lay, eyes still closed. “I’m afraid. I don’t want to die. But if I do… well… if I do, remember that I was a good

“I’m afraid. I don’t want to die. But if I do… well… if I do, remember that I was a good friend and a good husband. Remember that I fought as long as I could.”

Xander waited a long while, but there was no more. After making sure that Wood was sleeping and not something worse, he went down the hall, to wait with the others for the cavalry to arrive.

Wood lay sleeping, and then his eyes opened suddenly, and he made as if to rise. “Mom?” he gasped, then slid slowly back to his pillows, eyes still open, no longer seeing. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story was originally written years ago, and I have been making minor edits and corrections as I repost. This chapter, which I am editing to keep my mind occupied, was so tough to read.
> 
> My father passed away yesterday, after months of illness. His condition at the end was very much like Wood's here- a large, powerful man brought down and thin and low, draining the reserves of those who loved him, ready to go but reluctant to force his goodbyes. Reading this now, I'm both reminded fresh of this personal sorrow, and also wryly amused that I captured so well on this page back then how I have felt this week. I am apparently a keen prophet of my own sadness.
> 
> Anyway, there is more to come in this tale, and not all of it sad. Like life, there is sorrow, and joy, and new begginings amid the endings, and the Great Wheel turns on. I thank all of you who have read my work for your kind comments and your time. I feel better knowing that someone out there cares enough to share my work. -MJC (ReverendKilljoy)


	12. XII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Buffy and Giles return to California. Faith employs extreme measures.

_**XII.** _

 

Rupert Giles looked out the window of the taxi as it wound through the streets of Anaheim. There was something perverse about the amazing preponderance of sunshine in California. He hadn’t realized how adjusted to it he’d become until he got home. Well, back to the UK at any rate. No matter how long he was back in England, home in some very real ways was still a town buried in a giant sinkhole in southern California.

He took his glasses off and rubbed them absently with a handkerchief. About six months ago, he’d bowed to the suggestion of Buffy and Andrew and had LASIK surgery. His eyes were better now than they had been since his college days, but he’d gone near mad reaching up to clean glasses that were no longer there.

One morning, he’d come down to breakfast to find a small package sitting by his “Don’t Stake the Librarian” tea mug. In Buffy’s looping script, the card simply said, “You’re impossible. Don’t change. –B” and inside were his old glasses, now with clear lenses. He hated to admit it, but they made him terribly happy. For all she had been through in her short life, Buffy was a remarkably kind woman.

A loud snoring coming from the seat next to him interrupted his thoughts. He looked down to see Buffy drooling onto her sweater, something soft and feminine and entirely too warm for the Anaheim climate. He gently prodded her side.

“Erm, Buffy? We’re nearly there.” Her head lolled away from his side and she knocked her head on the opposite window.

“Ow.” She made a very disgruntled pout and rubbed her head, then wiped her mouth on the back of her hand. “Ew. Why didn’t you tell me I was all ectoplasm girl? Ick.”

“Well, if someone had slept on the flight, she might not now be leaving trails on my new jacket.” He was dabbing at a damp patch she had made on his side.

“New? That’s new? Where do you buy pre-old tweed, anyway? At the clichéd Englishman shop, I suppose.” She yawned and looked around. “So, you think Willow and Kennedy will have everything ready?”

“I would imagine, not having been delayed at customs, they will have been there for quite some time.” He frowned at her with his best slightly disapproving expression. Since she stopped seeing the Immortal and started really devoting herself to setting up the Slayers’ Council, he had not had much chance to use it.

“Hey, who knew that one little crossbow would upset customs guys?”

“Erm, you, perhaps, since we discussed it whilst packing? Ooh, ah!” His jacket jumped and fluttered against his chest, and he startled awkwardly, patting at his clothes at random. “Um, yes.” He fished a buzzing, vibrating cell phone out of his coat pocket.

“You are so suave, Ripper. Women swoon.” Buffy chuckled as he answered.

His look was grim, and he answered briefly, “Yes. Of course. Just a few minutes, I should think. Of course.” He disconnected the call, and looked out the window, deep in thought, phone forgotten in his hand.

“Hellooooo?” Buffy was looking at him quizzically. “Distracted much? Was that Will?”

“I’m afraid it was.”

“What did…? We’re too late. We got stuck at customs because I brought a stupid crossbow, and we’re too late, aren’t we?” She turned and was talking to the back of the cab driver’s head. She was mad and scared and upset, mostly with herself.

“No, no. Robin is still alive, barely. He’s being sustained almost entirely by magic at this point, a Master Chen whom we have heard about. Robin is not responding to the spell Willow hoped to use to prepare him for the procedure. It’s not a good sign.”

“I’m tired of signs. We need to make our own signs for a change.”

The cab arrived, and Buffy hurried in while Giles took care of the fare. She was led through to the back of the dojo, to where she saw a crowd of friends and strangers gathered around a doorway.

“Over here, Buffy,” called Xander. He was standing, one arm around Dawn in a way that still made Buffy uncomfortable, talking to Willow. They all turned, and Dawn moved forward to give her a hug.

“Missed you. Thanks for coming.” Dawn looked great. Tired, and worried, and she’d cried recently and really didn’t have the complexion for it.

Giles made his way inside, his satchel and Buffy’s bag slung over his shoulder. More hugs, more quick greetings, all with the soft voices used at hospitals, morgues, and backstage at the theater.

“Where’s Faith?” Buffy asked, looking from face to face. “What, what is it?”

They all shared a look, and then Kennedy nudged Willow. The redhead took a half step forward. “She’s with Robin. Uh, I have to warn you, it’s not, um, it’s pretty extreme, what she’s done to hang on to him until you got here.”

Willow took Buffy’s hand, and they went through the doorway into what had been the Woods’ bedroom. On a low platform was a very, very old Chinese man, or perhaps the hollow shell a very, very old Chinese man might once have lived in. Were it not for the small movements of his mouth as he recited some sort of chant, Buffy would have thought him dead or sleeping.

She took a sharp breath, seeing past him for the first time. On a raised platform where the bed had been, Robin Wood laid, his arms strapped down loosely and his body stripped to the waist. It was encircled by some sort of swirling mist, which wafted to him from another, lower platform. There, unrestrained by bonds but clearly exercising great restraint to hold still, was Faith.

Willow put a hand on Buffy’s arm to steady her, as Buffy took in what had happened to Faith, what she was doing. Faith’s eyes were rolled back slightly in her head, and she panted with the effort of whatever it was she was doing. As Buffy watched, Wood had some sort of spasm, his back arching. The scars on his stomach opened, and blood welled up. Then the scars closed and faded, and his body slackened.

Faith gasped and a low keening noise escaped her clenched teeth. Her body arched and she struggled to keep her place. As Buffy watched in horrified fascination, bloody streaks matching Robin’s wounds appeared on the front of Faith’s clothes. Then, as Faith moaned softly, they faded, and for a moment there was no sound but Faith’s panting and the almost inaudible chant of Master Chen. 

 


	13. Part XIII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Just a few more weary days and then, I’ll fly away.”
> 
> “To the place where joys shall never end, I’ll fly away…”

_**XIII.** _

 

“Is she... she’s healing him isn’t she?” Buffy whispered to Willow, though she doubted Faith was in any shape to hear her.

Willow shook her head and answered in the same soft tones. “She can’t, his body fights it too much. She’s taking the poison from the wound, the evil from the Turok-Han, and taking it into her own body. You know, Slayer healing, she’s keeping him from getting worse. But every time she’s a little weaker and the pain, I can’t even imagine it.”

“How long has she been doing this?” Buffy was moving closer, eyes fixed on Faith. Willow followed a few steps behind.

“Almost three days, since just after Xander called. Robin had some sort of crisis and this was all they could do to hold on to him. We have to hurry, Buffy. I don’t think anyone can take that for much longer.” Willow was going over in her mind what would be needed for the spell she was going to attempt.

Faith’s eyes opened, and her head lolled a bit as she looked at Buffy.

“That you, B?” her voice was harsh, like whiskey and cigarettes and cheering for the big game. She grinned, and her face had lines it should not have had for such a young woman. “Better be you. This is another freakin' dream, I might say screw it and stake you.”

Buffy put her hand on Faith’s cheek. “Hey there. I’m here. You hold on, we’re going to get started right now, okay? You just hang on.” Faith’s eyes closed, and Buffy wasn’t sure Faith had even heard her.

She turned, getting her resolve face on, all the softer aspects of her persona falling away. What remained was Buffy the protector, the leader, the hero. This was Buffy, the Vampire Slayer. This was the woman who had been to heaven, to hell, even to Cleveland. “No more soldiers down, Will. We’re going to stop this, right?”

She stopped, looking to where Willow stood, one hand on the shoulder of the old Chinese man, Master Chen. The redhead had a silver bowl in the other hand, and the old man slowly drew his hands from inside his long sleeves. As he passed them over the bowl, placing something inside, it glowed and smoldered briefly, then Willow let go and the bowl hung in the air, not even a quiver.

“Let’s go.” Willow’s voice was strong and shockingly loud after the quiet earlier. She got that faraway look, and her eyes went dark. Darker. Black. Her hair flew out behind her in a breeze that affected her, and Master Chen, but nothing else in the physical world. With one hand still on the old man’s shoulder, she began to chant.

“ _Minuo, curatio_. Blood to blood, hero to hero… _Regina diem, nox noctem mirabile_ …” There was more like that, growing indistinct as a roaring began in Buffy’s ears.

Buffy came forward, and reached into the silver bowl, taking out a long, slim knife, made of some very bright, almost white metal. It felt warm and alive in her hand. Without hesitating, she ran it across her palm. The pain didn’t come for a moment, and she wondered if the knife was sharp enough.

There was a hissing, and she saw drops of bright blood from her hand skittering around in the bowl, like water in a frying pan. More blood flowed, and she felt the pain now, deep and sudden. She braced her feet and watched the blood begin to pool and churn in the bowl.

Behind her, Robin moaned and groaned, once, then lay still. Faith was panting like it was labor and they had forgotten the epidural. Willow frowned around her incantation and nodded meaningfully towards Buffy’s hand.

Buffy realized with a start that her body’s rapid healing had already started in on the slash across her hand. With a grimace, she raised the knife again and looked at it. Tossing it, she caught it on the half turn, blade down, and pushed it through her hand until the point broke through the other side and twin streams of blood fell into the silver bowl.

It is possibly worth noting that it wasn’t the most painful thing that had happened to Buffy Summers. She thought about it and realized it wasn’t even in the top five. Maybe not even the top five of self-inflicted pains. Still, it hurt, and she was beginning to wonder if there was going to be anything left of her when they were done.

Willow’s hair flashed from red to white, flying behind for one more long moment, and then just as suddenly, it was over. Willow staggered forward in the absence of the mystical winds that had buffeted her. Her hair hung in damp red tendrils around her sweating face. The silver bowl, now empty, wobbled a moment then fell.

Master Chen’s hand moved with a deliberation that belied its speed, and the bowl fell onto his open palm. He carefully set it down, then slowly raised himself and extended a hand to Buffy. Without thinking she reached out to take his.

She gasped as he took the knife, clean and cool, and returned it to the sleeve from wherever he had originally produced it. He turned her hand palm up in his, and she noted there was a small scar, already closed. Just a line across the palm and a somewhat paler crescent moon where she had run the point in. There was no blood, and only the memory of pain.

“Damn, B. You get all the easy jobs.” Faith’s voice behind her was still tired and worn, but stronger.

Buffy and Willow went to her side, as she slid off the low platform and went to where Robin lay breathing slowly. Faith put her palm on his forehead, then curved her hand around to caress his cheek. He moved to follow her hand slightly, still deeply sleeping. His scars remained, cruel and cold, but they did not seem fresh and angry as they had before.

Master Chen spoke from behind the three women, his voice weary and satisfied. “His spirit is strong. It rests now, in the body. The body does not war with the world- it is easy here. I am tired, and I will rest.” He left, moving with the solemn dignity of a luxury liner leaving port.

Faith laid her head on her husband’s chest, and said to him, “Knew you was gonna make it old man. You gotta get better, gotta be here. You’re gonna be with me, and gonna be a dad, gonna be everything…” Her voice trailed off, and she sat up, to look where Buffy and Willow were looking at her with identical expressions of slack-jawed amazement.

“Well, like some day. I mean, not like ‘right now’ or nothing. Jesus.” Faith shook her head at them, and laid her cheek back down to his chest, one hand reaching out to let loose the restraints which held him.

Buffy and Willow both swallowed and gulped a bit, and then backed away, heading out to leave the dark-haired slayer and her sleeping husband. As Willow closed the door behind her, sliding it gently closed, she could hear Faith’s tired but surprisingly gentle voice.

> “Just a few more weary days and then, I’ll fly away.”
> 
> “To the place where joys shall never end, I’ll fly away…”
> 
>  


	14. Part XIV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Xander learns valuable information, and Faith is mocked by Willow and Buffy

_**XIV.** _

 

Faith stood in the doorway of Dawn’s guest bedroom, taking another look at where her husband lay sleeping. In the week since the magical transfusion, he had been getting stronger and healthier, but she found herself caught in a tight orbit around him. She was always reaching out to touch him, or laying her head against him, or just peeking at him from doorways.

He looked good. He’d shaved his head again, and it had done a lot to make him look more like himself. His beard was once again short and neat, the way she liked it. He was starting to smile from time to time and was walking okay, although he was soon tired. She had agreed to let him come to the celebration party at Dawn and Xander’s, but only if he agreed to rest before dinner.

“Good night, Ricky. Sweet dreams,” she told him, closing the door. From the top of the stairs, she could hear laughter coming from the backyard.  A few pitchers of sangria and some really nice shrimp salad were waiting for her, and Xander was playing Grill King again, so she hurried down.

When she came into the back yard, she saw that the whole crew was gathered around the folding tables. Giles, looking really good in an open-necked cotton shirt, was holding a plate of shrimp and avocado salad and talking to Kennedy. Kennedy had on a long skirt and a swimsuit top, which showed off her good skin. Faith made a note that it was a look that would probably look good on her, too. Time to stop dressing for night patrol 24/7, maybe.

Buffy, Willow, and Dawn were gathered around the peach tea, chatting away. Poor Willow, with the translucent pale skin so many redheads have, was wearing an implausibly large floppy hat and a sundress. Buffy, in Capri pants and a sleeveless top, was talking seriously about something, but they all stopped when they saw Faith coming.

“Okay, dish,” said Faith, grabbing a plastic cup of sangria and sliding into a chair across from Buffy. “You guys talking about me again? Or what?”

“I was just telling Dawn about that Kodak moment during the spell for Robin,” Buffy admitted. She turned back to her sister, whose eyes were large over the rim of her peach tea as she listened.

“So,” Buffy continued, “Faith is standing there, going on about how he’s going to make it.”

“He ‘has to’ make it,” corrected Willow, with a grin to Faith. “Because, and this is the brain-hurt-making part, he’s…”

Buffy and Willow finished the line in a chorus of melodrama, “He’s gonna be a DADDY!” They started giggling, turning back their relationship clock to some much earlier time like it was their sophomore year in high school again.

Dawn choked on her tea, and coughed loudly, sending peach tea spraying in an arc like a lawn sprinkler. The girls shrieked and dodged, laughing. Faith’s eyes got very wide and she started covering loudly.

“It wasn’t like that!” She protested. “I was just, like, you know, trying to make sure he was listening. I mean, someday, you know, we’re going to have kids I guess. You know, married people thing, no big.”

Dawn was blinking hard and trying to get the tea discretely out of her nose. Xander and the others came over to see what the commotion was about. This led Willow and Buffy to not only quote but to dramatically re-enact the moment in question, in a fashion worthy of _Days of Our Lives_ during sweeps week.

Giles, smiling, put a rather avuncular hand on Faith’s shoulder. “Seriously, Faith, I’m glad that you are thinking about the future. It shows real growth, and, and optimism, for you and Robin. I imagine a baby, you know, some day would be a wonderful thing. Not just for you, but for all of us who’ve made so many sacrifices along the way, uh, over, over the years.”

“Um, yeah,” Faith said uncertainly. She saw that Dawn was looking determinedly at the bottom of her empty cup of tea as if to read the future in it. Xander, grilling apron smudged with marinade, was standing behind Dawn, his hands resting on her shoulders,

“So anyway.” Faith said in a forced segue to change the subject, “that was some wicked spell, Willow, you did there. You think that up on your own?”

Willow blushed and stuttered a bit, “Well, uh, well, I think that…” 

Xander interrupted her, giving Faith a hard look. “Hey, back up. That was a forced segue to change the subject. I grew up in Sunnydale- we invented the forced segue to change the subject. What gives? You and Robin aren’t expecting, are you? I mean, already?”

“Huh? No, not at all, no way! I mean,” she added quickly, “not that there would be anything wrong with that, with two people who are together, and you know, love each other and everything.” She broke off and gulped her sangria.

“Okay, just to be clear,” said Kennedy in that ‘let’s overstate the point’ voice she used sometimes, “You are not having a baby, so far as you know, anytime soon right?”

“Right.”

“Okay?” Kennedy asked Xander.

“Okay,” Xander said, still suspicious but not sure where to take it.

“Xander and I are going to have a baby,” Dawn said, holding out her cup. “Pass the peach tea?”

Giles looked on blankly. Faith closed her eyes and shied her face away from Buffy, waiting for the explosion. Xander had no reaction visible at all. Buffy, Kennedy, and Willow all shouted, “What?”

Xander reached out and snagged the pitcher of tea. “She said ‘pass the tea’ guys, jeez.” He began pouring, and Dawn looked back over her shoulder at him, trying to gauge his reaction.

Buffy was doing the slow burn thing and had not boiled over enough to start shouting. Willow was looking from Dawn to Xander and back, over and over, so she looked like a bobble head doll. Kennedy had a pensive look on her face and was tapping her chin with her finger.

“Xander,” Kennedy said slowly, “I think it was what she said _before_ that which got our attention. Xander?”

He was still pouring tea, a look of total calm on his face, as the cup overfilled and tea began to run down Dawn’s arm and over the table.

“Xander?” Kennedy continued, “XANDER!”

“Huh?” He stopped pouring, then looked down at the pool of tea. “Oh.”

“What exactly do you mean?” Buffy had found her voice at last, and it was not the understanding, ‘I want to show you the world,’ caring sister part that had grabbed the controls first. “Xander? How did this happen?”

Dawn turned and flashed her sister a look of disgust that could have been from any kid sister anywhere to any big sister, regardless of age, from the beginning of little sisters and big sisters in the world. “That would be the usual way, Buffy. And stop glaring at Xander, he didn’t know either.”

“Dawnie…” Xander never used that nickname anymore. He shook all over, like a dog coming out of a swimming pool. “Dawn, were you planning on telling me about this? When… how… uh, when? You were planning on telling me, right?”

“Has everybody gone insane?” Buffy was standing now, and her look did not bode well for ordinary mortals. “Dawn, we need to talk.”

“Buffy,” Faith stood, and put her hand on Buffy’s arm, only to be shaken off.

“Sorry everybody, this just became a family discussion.” Buffy was looking pointedly at the others, one eyebrow raised slightly.

“Yeah, Buffy, it has,” said Faith. “In case you missed it, though, it’s not _your_ family.” She nodded to Xander and Dawn. “It’s theirs. Why don’t we all go make an ice cream run or something, let them talk?”

“Ice cream is not going to fix this, Faith.” Buffy was still sounding very dangerous, but not so sure of what she was going to do.

“I think she’s right, Buffy.” Giles had been thinking quickly, once the shock wore off, and he realized they needed to get Buffy away from Xander and Dawn and get the two lovers alone to talk, as quickly as possible. “Yes, Faith has an excellent plan.”

“Hey. Those words may not ever have been put together in that order before,” Faith muttered to herself. “So, 31 Flavors?”

“Ice cream,” said Willow suddenly. “Ice cream fixes all things. We must go, and, and, and partake of the ice cream right away.” She got Buffy by the arm and started leading her inside.

“You better be good to her, Xander!” Buffy called back over her shoulder as Kennedy got her other arm and they took her inside.

Giles reached over to squeeze Dawn’s shoulder and gave her a lopsided smile, then hurried after Buffy. “Okay, let’s go find a multi-scoop chocolate, erm, thingy for Buffy to, um, to slay shall we?”

Faith looked at Dawn and Xander and saw the amazed look on Xander’s face, but she also saw how he had moved down next to Dawn, and slipped an arm protectively around her while Buffy was venting. She was pretty sure they were going to work things out.

“Bring ya back anything? No? Okay, you guys talk, and then do a lot of crying and kissing, I think that’s traditional, then talk some more. Or kissing, you know, or whatever. Call us in a while, on the cell, alright?”

As she moved inside, she saw Robin standing in the doorway, his clothes straightened, his walking stick in hand, but he was not leaning on it much.

“Hey, lover,” she said. He kissed her cheek as she came up to him. He was looking at Xander, Dawn, and the hastily abandoned cups and plates scattered about. Smoke curled out from the forgotten grill.

“I miss something?” 

 


	15. Part XV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Buffy vs. Faith.

_**XV.** _

 

With reflexes naturally sharp and supernaturally enhanced from her calling as a slayer, Faith felt the attack coming and bent sharply backward. Her right hand reached out and found the ground behind her, fingertips spread, while her left wound up in a fast arc, like a pitcher on the mound getting ready for a fastball.

As the kick that had been heading towards her chin whistled past, Faith let the wheeling momentum of her arm carry her back. Her feet came off the ground and she was briefly supporting all her weight on her right hand. She pushed hard and began to pitch over in a one-handed cartwheel backward. Her feet hit the ground and she stood up, ready to return the attack.

She was just a shade slow in getting set after her back-bending evasive move, however, and the roundhouse punch which followed the sweeping kick caught her right on the side of her head. If her head had been a cinderblock, this punch would have crushed it, but her reactions saved her somewhat. Even as she was being knocked off her feet by the powerful blow, she was pushing off with her legs in the direction of the punch, tucking and rolling so she wound up sprawled across the ground. She raised a hand, acknowledging that her attacker had her down and she needed a moment to recover.

“Damn, B. You always were fast, when you get so freakin' strong?” She rubbed the side of her head and her jaw ruefully.

Buffy stood over her, breathing heavy but unhurt. She reached a hand down to the taller, dark-haired slayer. “Age catches us all, Faith. It’s just catching you first I guess.” She pulled Faith to her feet. “We’ve been sparring for over two months, and I swear you’re getting slower. Married life is making you fat and tired.”

“Oh you didn’t,” said Faith incredulously. “You didn’t play the body fat card, Miss Ice Cream Solves All Problems. I don’t know who has the cravings, you or Dawn.” She dropped back into guard.

“Don’t get me started on Dawn,” Buffy followed the words with a series of blows, which Faith neatly blocked. When she kept her focus, Faith had a slight advantage on Buffy. A bit of reach, a bit of strength tipped things her way unless Buffy was really mad, usually. “She’s totally unreasonable these days, and I don’t mean the hormones.”

“Why, ‘cause she’s happy?” Faith leaped suddenly, her feet coming up. Just as Buffy reached to block with her forearms, Faith pulled her feet back, and her bent knee caught Buffy squarely on the forehead. The petite blonde went bowling back, landing with a graceless thump on the floor of the dojo. “Or because Xander has that goofy look all the time. Well, goofier.”

Faith stood over Buffy, hands on her hips, and rubbed the side of her head again. She was going to be five wicked kinds of sore tomorrow, and it was all worth it. For all that had passed between them, these last two months Buffy had been visiting was really the first time they had ever met as equals, as friends, in a workout that tested them both. She was trying to get some darker thoughts off her mind, and she might have hit a little harder than she meant to.

“You okay, B?” She tried not to pant.

Buffy sat up, a little dazed. “Mom, I don’t want to go to school today. Bring me some ginger ale?” And she flopped back in a mostly-feigned swoon.

“Okay, break sounds good.” Faith went to lower herself down to rest by Buffy, but a creaky rib gave a twinge when she was half way down, and she wound up pitching over and flopping next to Buffy instead. “Oomf.”

“I second that oomf. Anyway, yeah, I guess Dawn has me thrown. She’s pulled some pretty boneheaded moves in the past, but this, I don’t know where to start.”

Faith rolled onto her side and looked at Buffy. “How about, is she happy? Is Xander happy? That’s first, right, I mean, happy parents, happy kids?”

Buffy’s eyes narrowed as she stared at the ceiling. “So you got the speech too, huh? No parents, no brothers and sisters, nothing to tie us here except for the mission? Sorry, I’m not sure I buy it.”

“I do.” Faith’s voice was serious, and her customary bravado was missing entirely. “You had your mom, you had your friends. Giles was so totally in love with you, you’re like the daughter every Watcher dreams of to hear him tell it. You ever think you’re alive right now because of your family?”

“Maybe.”

“No maybe. I respect you B, I mean, you paid dues I can barely imagine, and I was there for the last. But I have to tell you straight out, if it wasn’t for your family, the gang you put together, I’d have killed you myself.”

Faith rolled back and looked up the ceiling herself. They lay there together, like two children on the grass watching clouds. “All the mistakes I made in my life, almost walking away from you guys after Sunnydale is right up there,“ Faith continued after a while. “I think Robin pushing me, challenging me, I think it’s held me together all this time.”

Buffy looked at her a moment. “Yeah, so this is like, what, a personal record for mental and emotional stability for you, right? Do you get a pin or something?” The thought was serious but the voice had a teasing lilt to it.

“Buffy?”

“Yeah, Faith?”

“I’d kill you right now, but I my head hurts. And my parole officer is a like this total nag. ‘Faith, don’t kill anyone today. Faith, don’t kill anyone tomorrow.’ Like a broken record, that guy.”

“So, you think Dawn’s doing the right thing? Isn’t she young, I mean, she has a long time to make decisions like that, she has her whole life…” Buffy sat up. It’s hard for a Slayer, with a finely tuned body and the song of adrenaline in her heart, to lie still for much reflection.

Faith shot a look at Buffy, then gathered into a back flip up to her feet. She looked tired, and sad.

“Yeah, I think she’s doing the right thing. You don’t know what your youth is until you need it and it’s not there.” There was something bitter there, something she had not meant to share until it was out.

 “Check you out, profound girl.” Buffy put her hand on Faith’s arm. “What do you mean, anyway? This isn’t about Dawn at all, is it? You’re all bad moody.”

Faith turned and looked at her. “Slayer strength, Slayer healing. Speed, stamina, guts. We got the whole package, right? The Faith Wood machine- built for comfort and for speed?” There was no hiding the bitterness. Buffy could taste it in her mouth it poured off Faith so strongly.

Faith looked at her feet, and when she continued, her voice was small and fragile. It gave Buffy the wiggins, hearing that voice coming out of Faith.

“I went off the pill the while Robin was sick, figured we could talk about after. We talked, the day Dawn told us, at the cookout. Robin agreed, maybe it was time to put roots down deeper than a lease on a room behind the dojo. Then, nothing. I mean, you know, making with the wild monkey love, and nothing.”

“I don’t know what to say,” Buffy admitted. “But, you know, it’s just been a couple months, you got to give these things time, right?” Buffy wondered if you ever really know anybody. She had no clue that Faith, or Robin for that matter, ever really thought about being a parent. It made her feel very old, and suddenly very lonely.

“No. Went to the doc, figured, get a checkup, yo? Get on the vitamins, all that. Seems I could have saved a lot of cash on the pill the last few years.” She needed to move. She went to the sparring post, a 6x6 hardwood column wrapped in two-inch manila rope, and began lightly tossing jabs at it. Buffy moved behind her, drawn along by the hollowness in Faith’s voice.

“Are you sure? I mean, I guess I always figured, Slayer powers, the fitness thing… I never worried about us ever, you know, having problems or anything… I mean, could they give you any idea why?” She wanted to put a hand out to Faith, but the dark-haired girl was building a faster rhythm with her punches, starting to put some muscle into it. A sheen of fresh sweat made her bare arms shine.

“Yeah, they told me why. It’s not Robin, he’s like super sperm guy in some gross technical way I won’t pretend I understand. They offered him all sorts of goodies if he’d donate for the lab right that day. No, it’s me.”

_Whap. Whap. Whap-whap._ Her punches were getting harder. Buffy knew the feeling. Giles used to call it ‘Buffy beating things over.’ It helped, some.

“I’m sorry, Faith. Is there anything I can do to help?” It sounded lame and inadequate in Buffy’s ears even as she said it.

“Nope.” _Whap!_ “Done enough, sis.” _Whap-whap!_ There was blood on the sparring post rope now. “Sorry, touchy subject with me at the moment.” _Whap!_

“Enough? I’m sorry Faith, really I am, but I don’t understand. Will you please just stop and tell me what’s going on?” She reached out a hand to Faith’s shoulder. “Please?”

“Put a knife in my gut, B.” _WHAP!_ There was a creaking from the post, somewhere down where it was sunk into the floor. _WHAP!_ “Carved my guts. Didn’t much care then, didn’t even blame you, considering.” _WHAP!_ “Of course, if I’d known you hit the tubes and whatnot, well, I still wouldn’t have cared, back then.”

With a final strike, she shouted, “ _KI_!” as Wood had taught her, and drove her open palm through the space where the sparring post had been. It snapped explosively off at the floor, and fell, slowly, like a tree in the forest, and clattered to the dojo floor. They could have made a lot of stakes with the shards that scattered from the base of the post as it split.

“Then again,” Faith said, shrugging off Buffy’s hand, “I feel a little different about it now. Okay, I think you need to go for a while. Love you and all, but you need to be somewhere not here, check? Go call your sister. Better yet, drive over there. Give her a hug. Tell her you love her. Get ready to be Aunt Buffy, whatever. But for today, just do it somewhere else.”

She left the practice room and headed for her apartment at the back of the dojo, leaving a speechless Buffy standing amid the battered wreckage of hardwood splinters and bloodstained rope. You never really know anybody at all. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The idea that Faith and Robin cannot conceive, and Buffy's blame for it, is one of my favorite original ideas in this series. I don't know if any of you care, but to me it was a nice reminder of all their history...


	16. Part XVI

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More goodbyes, and a sudden turn

_**XVI.** _

 

Robin sat in the drivers’ seat of Faith’s SUV, watching Dawn hug her sister goodbye. Dawn was only about four months along, but there was that something about her that clued you in she was expecting. Getting into her second trimester, the still slender young woman’s skin glowed. She moved carefully, and she smiled a lot, turning green and woozy only from time to time.

Beside him, Faith was quiet. She had told Buffy about their problems, and things had been awkward between them. Still, no one had died, which had to be counted a plus. Now Buffy was going back to England, to Giles’ place in Surrey, and Faith actually seemed sort of wistful.

“I remember when you could really say goodbye,” Robin told Faith suddenly.

“Come again?” She was looking at him with eyes half closed.

“At the airport. You used to be able to go to the gates and to watch the people disappear down the little tunnel. It really felt like you were saying goodbye. This, this is just giving someone a ride to a big building.”

“Well, it’s safer, I guess. You know, security.” She looked back. Buffy was crying. Dawn was crying. Xander was standing with his hands on his hips, looking up at the sky and not crying, in a very manly fashion. “I guess this is supposed to be safer,” she repeated idly.

“I guess,” he agreed. “I miss the old way.” 

“Yeah. I suppose so.”

“Faith?”

“Mmm?” She was looking out the window, but not at their friends, just at the people in general. There was a hint of rain in the air, and everything had that mist-beaded sharpness to it that made it seem more real than real.

“I love you.”

“I know.”

“Yeah, but I thought I’d tell you again. It’s not fair, really. I’m getting better, feeling better. And you’re feeling worse. It’s not, well, not fair.”

She looked at him and patted his knee. She went back to looking out the window. Xander and Dawn were coming back to the SUV, holding hands.

“No, I suppose it’s not. We’ll be okay, though.”

Dawn and Xander got in, Dawn sniffling and Xander looking serious.

“Hey, I’m already taking today off. Do you guys have any plans today?” Xander’s voice was decisive, and it cut through all the unspoken conversation still lingering in the vehicle.

“I need a nap, but that’s about it,” Dawn replied. “What’s up?”

Xander put an arm around her. “And you two?” he asked Robin and Faith.

“Nothing much,” Faith answered. “Why? You got something you want to do?”

“Well, I was just figuring… Mayor Mitchell over in Ogdenville, he owes you guys a favor right?”

Robin pursed his lips. “I don’t know I’d put it like that, but yeah, we’re on pretty good terms.”

Faith was looking at Xander with puzzlement. “What you got cooking back there, Harris?”

“Well,” Xander said with forced casualness, “Now that the last of the company is gone, I was wondering who I know who could waive a waiting period for Dawn and me.”

Robin hit the breaks and they swerved over to the shoulder of the airport road. Both women were looking at Xander in shock.

“What are you saying, Xander?” Dawn sounded very calm, but her knuckles were turning white where she was griping the armrest of the SUV.

“I’m saying before we have a baby, I’d like to marry you. Is that hopelessly square of me?”

Faith looked at Robin.

“Hey,” said Robin, “don’t look at me. First I heard of it.”

“Robin,” said Dawn, “Please take me home?”

Xander looked at her, and he swallowed loudly. “Dawn? I’m sorry, honey, I thought, you know, I thought you’d like the idea. I just didn’t want you to have to deal with Buffy and everybody, and make a big production out of things.”

“That’s very considerate of you Xander.” Dawn sounded like she was talking to a fourth grader. “I’m sure that you’d make a fine husband to any woman you feel you have to marry. Robin, can we go, now?”

Robin put the car back in gear and pulled back into the traffic leaving the airport.

Xander looked at Dawn, and then at the Woods. “That’s not… hey, you guys didn’t have the big ceremony. You just got the guy to, you know, to say the thing, and you guys are great together. I just thought maybe that would be a good way to go.”

Faith looked at him. “And you’re the One Who Sees? Way to go, Ace. Look at her.” She waved a hand at Dawn, who was staring straight ahead, chin up, mouth drooping down at the corners but relatively tear-free.

“Yeah?” Xander was so lost.

Faith turned to Robin. “It’s sad, really. How did these two ever make it together in the first place? He doesn’t tell her how he feels and she doesn’t show him what she wants.”

“It’s a miracle.” Robin wanted to say more but he was battling traffic. When he could he’d peek at Dawn and Xander in his rear-view mirror.

“Dawn,” Faith asked bluntly, “You want to marry this one-eyed, somewhat broken down glorified bricklayer?”

“I don’t want to marry anybody who’s marrying me for my baby. He doesn’t have to marry me. He loves me, that’s enough.” Her lip was quivering. If they didn’t get this straight soon, it was going to be pretty messy back there.

“What do you say to that, Xander? I suggest you make it honest and damn persuasive.” Faith reached back and poked him in the chest with her finger to make sure he was listening.

“I wasn’t… I didn’t…” Xander was sputtering. Another poke, and he turned to Dawn. “I know I don’t have to marry you, Dawn. I’ve never felt like that was something I needed to do, or that I ought to do, or even that it was necessarily a very good idea.”

Faith hung her head. “God, you’re an idiot, Xander,” she muttered. How long was it going to take to fix this meltdown?

“I never felt anything like that Dawn.” He reached into his pocket, and pulled out a little box. Dawn was watching him from the corner of her eye, and she turned and looked with suspicion as he opened the box. Inside was a claddagh ring, in white gold, with a heart-cut rose-tinted diamond surmounted by a crown, and Celtic knot-work designs wreathing around it.

“I just wanted you to marry me.”

Faith punched Robin on the shoulder, a little harder than she’d meant to, and he had to swerve to get back into his lane. Horns beeped and blared around them, and Robin muttered something under his breath.

“When, when did you get this, Xander?” Dawn was staring at the ring, and had one hand out towards it. She didn’t touch it. If she did, it would pop like a soap bubble on the breeze and disappear, she was sure.

“The day after the spell for Robin,” Xander told her, taking the ring out and watching it shine in the watery light from outside the car. “While you and Buffy were talking at the house, and everyone else was over at the dojo. I wanted to make sure Robin was going to be okay, and I was looking for the right time to give it to you. I had it in my pocket all day at the cookout, but we somehow never got to the toasting and I’m so glad you’re all here portion of the festivities. Kind of got off track that day.”

“We did. Sorry about that.” Dawn was blushing and could not take her eyes off the ring.

“I’m not.” Xander turned to Faith and Robin. “I’m going to be a father. A good one, if I can. I’m looking forward to trying, at any rate. Too bad I’m going to have to go through it as a single parent…”

“Enough already!” Wood called out, driving faster through the drizzle that was beginning to fall. “Take the damned thing, Dawn, and say yes, would you? The suspense is killing me, I’m still on the mend you know.”

“Yes.” Dawn kissed Xander on the cheek. “Yes.” She took his hands in hers, wrapped around the ring, the box falling forgotten to the floor. “Yes, Xander Harris, I will marry you.”

She kissed him again, and he kissed her back, and it was getting pretty steamy in the back seat. Faith turned to Robin.

“How soon can we get to Ogdenville?” she asked with a grin.

“We’ve been driving there since you put that bruise on my arm, woman. Now get on the phone and call Clayton, have him round up Mayor Mitchell. Then call Pop Warner, he’s in my book.”

“Pop Warner, their friend from the deli?” She asked, getting her cell phone out.

“It’s going to be bad enough explaining this to Buffy and Willow and Giles. But if we get these two married without Pop being there, we might as well stick him in his coffin now with the heart attack he’d have.”

“Good point. Hey, Xander, it’s bad luck for you to see her before the wedding, yo? So, like, close your eyes or something,” she called back as she dialed Clayton’s office number.

Robin peeked in the mirror and then grinned at his wife. “I think their eyes are already closed, love. We’ll be in Ogdenville in about half an hour, Lucy. Make the calls.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Robin's airport musings are a callback to Xander's thoughts in "The Key and the Carpenter." A little leitmotif if you will.
> 
> Also, anytime someone says, "I love you," the correct response is, "I know."


	17. Part XVII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Basic training.

_** XVII. ** _

 

“This character is ‘ _ken_ ,’ the Japanese for 'sword,' or ' _tsurugi.'_ ” And here, ‘ _do_ ,’ which means 'the path,' or 'the way.' Thus, ‘ _kendo_ : the way of the sword.’ I’m sure a lot of you are wondering right now, why am I here?” Robin Wood looked at the dozen men and a few women, mostly young, healthy types, seated awkwardly on the floor of the dojo.

He stood, unfolding with a grace and ease that let Xander Harris, kneeling in the second row, know that Robin really was starting to heal at last. Robin reached to his side, and in a fluid and blindingly fast motion, drew his bokutu, the solid wooden sword with which kendo is practiced.

He made fast figures through the air. Each block or thrust was punctuated with an explosive “ _hai!_ ” as he moved back and forth before the small crowd of construction workers and contractors.

“Your tuition to this class has been paid,” Robin continued, pausing in front of one man, “because A New Dawn Construction and their management think you will benefit from the conditioning, from the flexibility of kendo. Most importantly the kendo you learn here, and the _shorinji kempo_ you will learn from Mistress Faith will provide the discipline that will serve you well all your life.”

He looked at the man in front of him. Xander had identified him as the one most likely to resist the new program. He hadn’t mentioned that the man was built like a pallet of bricks. Oh well, teaching was rarely easy.

“You, sir, please stand up. Your name?” The man stood and kept standing until he was about a half foot taller than Wood. Wonderful.

“Breckenridge. You can call me Bubba, Slick.” Breckenridge’s accent placed him somewhere well south of Mason-Dixon.

“Okay, class, Rule Number One. In this dojo, for the duration of these classes, you will be addressed by your surnames, or as Student. You will call your instructors Sensei, which means Master or Mistress. Respect is the beginning of discipline, and discipline is the beginning of kendo.”

“Sorry, Slick,” said the tall blonde man, shaking his head at Robin, “Let me tell you, I got nothing against blacks, been working construction with ‘em all my life, pretty near. But the day I call any man _Master_ , black or white? Well, you can put me in the ground, see?”

Robin looked him up and down. The man had huge hands, rough from his labor, and arms like oak trees. His eyes, though, had the sleepy look of a natural killer. Xander was right, this was the student he needed. And the race card? That just made it easy.

Wood took a step back and lowered his bokutu until it pointed towards the floor. He spoke softly and clearly, and everyone in the room was watching in fascination. Xander was trying to keep from grinning.

“You think you can talk to me that way, in my dojo, Student? Interesting. It suggests you lack respect. You’d like to take a swing at me, Student, wouldn’t you?”

Breckenridge grinned at him without humor. “Like to be keeping my job, more.”

Robin nodded at Xander. “I think your boss will be okay. What happens here stays here, Mr. Breckenridge.”

“I told you,” Breckenridge said, looking back at his coworkers, “to call me Bubba.” He spun back towards Wood, a roundhouse right whistling towards Wood’s chin.

Except Wood was now standing next to him, sword up. He snapped the sword down in a measured slap at the large student's backside. Breckenridge overbalanced and stumbled ahead, reaching back to rub his solid hind end. He spun around again and stopped glaring. A few students laughed. “Okay, Slick. That sword is pretty handy when alls I got is my fists. But what good is all this _Keanu_ stuff when you ain’t got no sword in your hand?”

“A very good point, Student,” Robin was still projecting for the whole class. “So let’s just take the sword out of the equation, shall we?” He whipped the sword up into a salute and slipped it into his belt. “I have to warn you, my wife is the one who teaches unarmed combat here, generally. I’m sorry if I’m a little rusty.”

Breckenridge took two steps, fast for a big man, and launched a punch at Wood’s chin. He was balanced, almost poised. Breckenridge was not a man who got by on his size and strength, he was a man who had a certain natural gift for violence and his body had adapted accordingly over the years. His punch might have dropped some prizefighters.

Robin stepped inside the big blond’s swing, and struck him over the heart with his open palm, driving his arm forward with a shouted “ _KI!_ ” that rang briefly through the dojo. He did his best, he really did, to pull his punch.

Breckenridge didn’t fly back or snap back like a punching bag. Even more dramatically, he stopped dead. He stood briefly with a puzzled look, arms dropping to his side.

“Ow?” he muttered, and his knees buckled. Wood stepped in to catch him and was nearly driven into the ground by the man’s weight.

“You, and you, sir,” barked Wood at two students, “take our friend here over to the side of the room, and get him a drink of water.” He managed to support the stunned giant long enough for his classmates to take charge and drag him off to the side.

“I may have hit our Mr. Breckenridge a little hard, but I hope you noticed I did not hit him as hard as I could have done. Kendo and Kempo are about force, yes, and sometimes about violence. But always with control.”

He drew his sword and slid across the floor in a single fluid movement. His bokutu swung down at Xander’s neck, whistling through the air. The students whooshed air in to gasp or shout, but before they could, Wood snapped the sword to a halt a good quarter inch from Xander’s shoulder.

“First principles, gentlemen and ladies. Discipline and control. Balance. The skills we learn here in kendo you will be able to apply to everything you do in life.” He pulled the sword back, and Xander grinned a bit, rolling his shoulders with a pop. Wood slid the sword back down to his side and stepped back to the front of the class.

“Any questions? Anyone?” Carlos, a friend of Xander’s from work who had been asked to join the class, was still supporting the groggy Breckenridge, and they were shuffling back towards the ranks. Breckenridge was painfully raising a respectful hand. “Yes, Mr. Breckenridge?”

“This wife of yours, Mr., uh, Sensei… she hit as hard as you do?” He had a pained expression but shrugged off Carlos and did his best to stand back in his spot. Tough, this one, thought Robin.

“No, Mr. Breckenridge. If you last through this class and reach hers, I believe you’ll find Mistress Faith hits a great deal harder than I do.” 

“Huh. I reckon that must make for an interesting marriage, Sensei.” Breckenridge was grinning slightly. So he’s perceptive _and_ tough, Robin noted with a chuckle. We might have something to work with here after all.

“Okay, enough talking.” Wood assumed a relaxed yet formal pose. “We start with breathing. Notice the posture, note the weight, balanced both front to back and side to side…”

As he lectured, he looked at the young men and women who had come to him. Some came because it was a free workout. Some came because Xander asked them to, and he was not otherwise a very demanding boss. But a few, they hoped, in each class, came because they lacked only the tools to improve themselves, to improve their ability to make a difference against the forces of evil they would face in life.

A man could spend his lifetime finding the ones like Xander, who would fight because it was the right thing to do, not because they were somehow chosen. There would always be Slayers, to fight the vampires, the demons, and the forces of darkness. It was usually an invisible war, one that had been raging under the surface of civilization since civilization itself began.

Robin’s mother had been a Slayer, and his friend Buffy. His wife was a Slayer. He had seen what happened to ordinary people who got caught up in that world, but sometimes even the greatest warriors need an army. The next time a slayer needed an army to battle against the night, to save the world, Wood planned on having one handy. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I lifted Mr. Breckenridge almost entirely from Starship Troopers-The YA novel, not the film... I just couldn't resist.


	18. Part XVIII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Building Up and Knocking Down.

_**XVIII.** _

 

Faith stood, examining the long smooth staff of hardwood in her hands. It gleamed with a tough finish, a piece of ash as hard as a flagpole and about as flexible.

“This is wicked crazy, lover.” Her voice showed the frustration she was trying not to give in to, and her hands were raw from blows she’d taken during the battle. “You doing any better?”

Her husband stood at her back, a sheen of sweat over his features, gripping two shorter sticks, also finished ash. He hefted one briefly and looked at the wreckage before him. He tossed the other stick experimentally in the air and caught it as it spun.

“Okay, honey.” He considered for a moment. “Okay, yeah. One of these two is definitely heavier than the other, so it must be a little thicker right? I mean, they’re the same length, so, thicker, right?”

Faith hung her head in defeat. “Okay, if one of those is thicker, then it’s not the freakin' End Piece C. it must be another Bottom Rail D.” She looked at the staff in her hands again and then turned to stand shoulder to shoulder with her husband. “And we already have both Bottom Rail Ds. Crap.”

Robin looked at the awkward pile of sticks, staves, slats, and springs, which was taking shape amid the wasteland of packing material spread over the floor of the dojo. “So, we need to take it apart. Again. And check those rails. Again. And it still doesn’t look anything like the picture.” He gestured towards the cover torn off the packing carton, propped against the new sparring post. “Drop-Side Convertible Crib, with All Genuine Hardwood, my tired black ass!” he muttered.

Faith looked at him and started swinging the Top Rail piece she held in lazy circles. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking, lover?” she asked, accelerating the staff so it was whistling in a blur around beside her.

“I am so there already,” he admitted. “After you?”

She stepped forward and let the spinning staff connect with the partially misassembled crib. There was a crack like a small caliber gunshot, and splinters sprayed back at them as the whole mess disappeared in a cloud of fasteners, wood splinters and shattered ash. They paused and considered the debris. Faith began brushing the splinters from her hair and off her shoulders.

“Just leaves these three,” Robin noted. With some effort and much satisfaction, he took the two pieces in his hands and broke them over his knee. He tossed the shattered ends on the pile before them. “What about that one?” he asked, indicating the longer piece Faith was still idly twirling in one hand as she brushed herself down with the other.

“Let’s keep this one, lover,” she told him with a fierce grin. “Souvenir of the battle, like.”

He laughed and reached over to kiss her. The spinning of the stick slowed, and the kiss lengthened. Faith dropped the staff with a clatter and reached up to hold his face in her hands. “Mmm. So, now are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

He kissed her again, and wrapped her up in his arms, lifting her up onto her toes as he kissed her, kissing her mouth, and her nose, and her eyelids which always made her laugh. “Actually, I was… But now, I’m mostly thinking do we have time to clean this up before the Tai Chi class and still pick up a pre-assembled cradle, and get it over to Dawn and Xander’s?” He continued to kiss her.

“It’s a beautiful day, and they cut the grass in that little park down the road. By this evening, it’ll be perfect there for class.” She lifted her legs from the ground and wrapped them around his waist. It was so nice, she thought, not worrying anymore about hurting him. Well, not too much, Slayer strength still called for a little restraint in the sack, but he was surprisingly tough for an old man.

Wood walked, his wife moving against him in delightfully distracting ways, out into the hall. “Master Chen?” he shouted down the hallway.

“ _Wei wei?_ Yes, Robin?” the old man’s voice drifted up the hall from the front desk.

“Tell Corey… Mmm, stop that honey! Tell Corey Tai Chi is in the park tonight, will you?” He started off towards their rooms. Faith was already lifting the shirt from his chest and nibbling his neck.

“Yes, Robin.” Master Chen smiled at his desk, and slid a bookmark into a very worn copy of “The Voyage of the Dawntreader.” He dipped a calligraphy brush into a stained inkwell and painted himself a note with elegant strokes on the back of a losing lottery ticket.

He knew from what Robin had said that he would need to have the Tai Chi class change and then walk the few blocks to the park.  He also knew from the way Robin had said what he did that he, Master Chen, better give the Woods a wakeup call before their dinner date with Dawn and Xander Harris. It was so nice to see Master Wood back to his old self again, or better. 

 


	19. Part XIX

_**XIX.** _

 

Dawn Harris sat on a stool at her kitchen counter, tearing lettuce into a big bowl. She stretched, arching her back and feeling the weird sensations in her body. The backaches she was getting used to, but she was surprised that she could actually feel the ligaments in her hips stretching each day, getting her body ready for bad things to happen down there in her pelvis. She didn’t like to think too much about that part yet.

She tossed more lettuce in the bowl and called over her shoulder to her friend. “Faith, can I get your help with the cucumbers and tomatoes?”

“Sure D, what do you need?” Faith cooked occasionally now, but she was still mostly a chef in the thaw-nuke-eat school, by and large. Dawn had thrown herself into the whole Food Network thing and was slowly teaching Faith some basics.

“Chop the tomatoes and put them in the salad. I don’t trust myself tonight with a knife. Almost two months left to go and I already have sausage fingers. And my feet feel weird, even when they don’t hurt. Anyway, I guess just julienne the cucumbers and we’ll save them for that fancy dressing stuff Buffy sent.”

“Okay, earth to Martha Stewart- julienne?” Faith was poised with a large chef knife in her hand. Dawn grinned. Faith still always went for the Big Knife. 

“Um, cut them into pieces a couple inches long, then cut those pieces into thin strips.” Dawn looked at the bottle that had come with a huge bouquet and loaded picnic basket from Harrods in London. “Champagne vinaigrette. Sounds fun. I still can’t believe all the stuff Buffy and Giles sent. The UPS guy was like, staggering to the door.”

Faith was rocking the knife back and forth with speed and precision. It was nice to have a place where her enhanced reflexes found a peaceful application. Kind of soothing, she thought. Maybe she ought to check out more of this cooking stuff.

“I can’t believe B didn’t fly here and tear us all in half when you finally told her you guys got hitched,” Faith said. “I bet she could have managed it without a plane, she was so pissed.”

“Give Buffy some credit, Faith. She has a quick temper, sure, but she’s also a sucker for romance, you know? She calmed down pretty fast actually. She is so totally getting into this Aunt Buffy thing, too. She’s started sending postcards every week, we’re supposed to read them to the baby so she’ll know her Aunt Buffy already when she’s born.”

“Okay, that’s like crazed mushy.” Faith chuckled. “But I know what you mean, if the Buffster was the type to hold a grudge, I can’t imagine I’d be here making, what do you call it, julienne cucumbers right now.”

“You think _she’s_ mushy?” Dawn laughed. “I woke up the other morning and Xander had written ‘We Love You’ on my belly with a marker, only backward so, and I quote 'the baby could read it.'”

“No way!” Faith swept the cucumbers into a bowl and began dicing the tomatoes. They were kind of small but very fresh. They were the last tomatoes of the season from Dawn’s little garden in the back.

“Totally way. It was all I could do wash it off. He wanted to run and get a flashlight so he could shine it through for her.”

They both laughed, and then they heard Xander calling from outside.

“Salmon’s done. How’s that salad coming?” he called to them.

“Five by five, Papa bear!” Faith called back to him. “Here,” she told Dawn, “let me carry this stuff. You just go sit down- I think we got it now.” Faith watched Dawn navigating her expanding belly down from the stool and towards the back door. She let the twinge of jealousy bubble up, and then let it wash away. She was happy for Dawn, and for Xander. They’d earned it.

The two young women went to join their husbands in the back yard. One moved with the slink of a jungle cat, the other with the awkward gracelessness of the first-time pregnant. One, older, had traveled a long road to reach the house in the suburbs and the cookout with friends. The other, the young mother to be, had a unique journey of her own behind her, and both of them wondered where their lives were taking them. They were both relatively young, both healthy. Both had suitably fit and manly husbands, men who had saved the world and were now just happy to see them, even after a separation of only a half hour.

For tonight, there was peach tea and fresh tomatoes from the garden. There was grilled salmon with some sort of lemon sauce, and what promised to be an interesting cucumber dish. Tonight, for a change, the world was not about to end. Their lives were not in danger. No one they knew was at death’s door or ensorcelled, or in despair for her life and happiness.

They sat down to eat, and the sun was setting over the fence, casting long shadows towards the candlelit table. Dinner was excellent, the company was friendly, and life was good.

 

END of _Book Two: The Sword and the Fist._

 

LOOK for _Book Three: The Night and the Day_ coming soon. A preview follows below.


	20. Sneak Preview of Book Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Sneak preview of Book Three: The Night and the Day, which brings more of my favorite characters around, and features my first extended take on Buffy Summers.

_**Sneak Preview** _

 

Buffy walked along the quiet street, looking at the half finished houses rising like dinosaur skeletons on one side. Xander’s construction company was finishing out the neighborhood, and she was pushing her niece along in her stroller, getting some exercise in after a day spent mostly at her sister’s, watching the baby.

“House bones, Hunny-bunny,” she noted to her niece who was sleeping in the stroller. Hope had been fussing at the house, trying not to fall asleep. Three minutes into their walk and the poor girl was out, but Buffy kept walking, unconsciously patrolling the partially finished neighborhood. Old habits.

“That’s what your mama always called houses before they got the walls on. House bones.” Her voice trailed off. There was someone moving quietly through one of the unfinished homes. A flashlight darted furtively around, then swung out towards them, attracted perhaps by the sound of her voice.

“Hunny-bunny,” Buffy said softly, “what say we get you home, okay?” She turned Hope’s stroller as fast as she dared without waking the baby. She reached behind her to the waistband of her pants and made sure she had a stake accessible. “Okay, home we go…”

A dark figure, very tall and looming large, had separated itself from the house and was moving towards them. In the gathering gloom of evening, Buffy realized that though one side of the street contained completed homes, many of them were still empty. There weren’t enough windows lit or porch lights to give her a clear view of the figure pursuing them. The stroller hindered her, and whatever was chasing her was getting closer. Soon she would have no choice but to grab her niece and run.

“Wait, stop!” came the raspy voice from behind her, cruel and soft as a snake in the leaves. It was closer than she had thought, and she realized she had only a moment to act. She stopped, jabbing the brake on the stroller and whirling around, stake in one hand, a cross in the other. She was ready to do serious violence with the twitch of a muscle.

“I thought it was you.” The figure stopped running and was stepping slowly towards her, at the edge of her vision in the dusk.  “It’s been a long time, but I knew you’d show up here eventually. I’ve been practicing. I wanted to be sure I was ready for this moment.”

She looked back quickly to make sure the stroller was locked down and safely far back from the street on the sidewalk. She knew she had to make this fast and get Hope back home. She turned back to her pursuer.

“Got to hand it to you, you creatures of the night sure can talk. Is this the part where I’m all weak-kneed and beg you not to hurt the baby? Sorry, I tend to just skip that part, and jump to the part where I kick your ass.”

 

Thank you for your readership.

 


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